


What Changes, And What Stays The Same

by Moonflower31



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Sex, Angelic Grace Kink (Supernatural), Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bisexual Dean Winchester, Bottom Dean Winchester, Castiel and Dean Winchester Need to Use Their Words, Castiel's Angelic Grace (Supernatural), Dean Winchester Has Panic Attacks, Depression, Eventual Smut, Heartbreak, Heavy Angst, Hurt Dean Winchester, Jealous Castiel (Supernatural), M/M, One Night Stands, POV Dean Winchester, Panic Attacks, Post-Break Up, Post-Slash, Regretful Dean Winchester, Sam is tired of Dean's bullshit, Suicidal Thoughts, The Author Regrets Nothing, Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-14
Updated: 2020-08-10
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:08:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 42,956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25256677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moonflower31/pseuds/Moonflower31
Summary: For the past six months, all Dean has done is hide. Shove everything down and ignore all of the pain and the regret that follows him to bed. He's woken up in tears more times than he can count. But he can't do anything. Cause it's his fault.Sam is tired of Dean's hostile mood. Sam knows this depression he's stuck in is going to kill his brother. So he had to try something. And try something he did.Little did he know Castiel had more than what he said that he wanted to make up for.
Relationships: Castiel (Supernatural)/Original Male Character(s), Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 47
Kudos: 95





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! So, just as an FYI, This is gonna be a longer fic. Idk how often I'm gonna update. I'll try at least once a week. Maybe more if I'm inspired. Just please be patient with me. This is my first Destiel fic, after all. 
> 
> But either way, please enjoy the madness that is this first chapter.

When Dean first hears of the hunt, he doesn really care. He shrugs it off. You know, what he does. That seemed to be all he’s been doing since 6 months ago. Sam seems worried all the time. It annoys Dean to no end. Why can’t he just act like he could care less about living and people just ignore him? Cause he’s got a brother like Sam, he has to remind himself. It’s because he’s not ‘himself’. Whatever that means. 

The morning of the hunt is like any other morning that Dean begrudgingly woke up to his alarm in the past six months. He woke up to the blaring noise of his phone’s alarm and sat up in bed. His eyes felt extremely heavy. Like someone had attached little weights to his eyelashes. Probably cause of all the nightmares. 

Dean grumbled as he rubbed his eyes free from sleep, ignoring the obvious wet spot where it was clear he’d been crying in his sleep again. He’s gotta stop doing that, he thinks as he rubs the evidence away too. Every night Dean’s been hoping he won’t wake up. That this day would be his last to suffer through the pain he’s been obviously hiding behind an impenetrable wall that keeps getting taller and taller. That he won’t have to go out and pretend to be okay. When he knows it’s obvious he’s not. The scattered bottles of empty liquor around his room is enough proof of that on it’s own. 

Dean grumbles again as he swings his legs over the side of the bed, tossing the covers off of his lower body, increasing the dread of the inevitable pain he knows he’s going to feel as soon as his feet hit the concrete floor of the bunker. He sighed, looked over at his lamp that was covered in photos at it’s base. All the photos are old, of people lost. People who he’d lost but not by his own fault. Except for one. The one photo is lying face down, as it had gotten too painful to look at every night and every morning. Reminding him of the angel that he’d pushed away. 

Dean shoves away his thoughts, pushes them down before he gets up. The immediate feeling of the cold concrete finally wakes him completely. Reminds him of who he has to be. What part he’s gotta play. And it sends a piercing feeling through his gut. Making his body also feel weighted. But again, as with all of his feelings, he shoves it down. 

Dean shuffles his feet as he dresses himself. Just a loose tee and flannel paired with worn hunting jeans. He takes a seat on the edge of his mattress and starts to lace on his boots. He remembers a time when he used to thoroughly enjoy his mattress, thrill about the memory foam and whatnot. But now the sinking feeling of the springs underneath his body are just a reminder of the things he carries. The guilt. 

Once finished with his boots, Dean stood up with a groan. Then he began his trek out to where Sam was seated in the map room, a coffee cup in front of him as he looked over the details of the case that Dean assumed Sam would tell him later. Probably going to start with ‘So get this…’ 

Dean wanders over to the map table and takes a seat, grunting in thanks as Sam slides a coffee mug across the table towards him. Dean brings the mug to his lips, taking a second before he sips from the bumble bee pattern covered mug. 

“So you remember what I told you about this case?” Sam brings up. Dean grunts a bit and looks up, registering Sam had said something before actually responding. Dean found himself more in thought than in the moment recently. He found that strange. Usually he was in his ‘hunters mindset’ as he called it. Going from one moment to the next with a no bullshit attitude. Taking no crap from anyone, just like John. But ever since… Dean hasn’t been in that ‘mindset’. He’s found himself distracted more often than he found himself focused. And it pissed him off. 

“Hm? Oh yeah. That one you found over in…” Dean starts, searching his mind for where Sam had said the case was. The town and the county were on the tip of his tongue. But for the love of Led Zeppelin he couldn’t remember. He guessed that’s what he got with how little sleep he’s been able to get. 

Sam raised an eyebrow at his brother. “Buncombe County. In Asheville Carolina?” He reminds, holding his mug of now colder coffee close to his lips. Dean had been forgetting things recently. At first Sam wanted to shrug it off. But now that it became such a consistent occurrence, he couldn’t ignore it. 

Dean snaps his fingers and points at Sam. “That’s the one. Thanks Sam.” he says, taking a sip from his coffee, like what just happened wasn’t a big deal. Maybe it wasn’t to him. Dean seemed to not care about a lot of things recently. Sam knew why. What he didn’t understand was why Dean wouldn’t talk about it. He understood that yes, his brother was often more reserved about his feelings. They both were. But Sam knew that talking about something, even if just for a short moment, could help alleviate those feelings. At least a small bit. 

“Anyway, the case has already had four victims. Uh... my contact says that the bodies were found with crushed skulls, drained blood, and shrivelled skin-” Sam began to explain, looking off of his notes to get the information across as well as he hoped. 

Dean furrowed his eyebrows and held up a hand. “Woah woah wait, your ‘contact’?” Dean asks, irritated. 

Sam sighed and rolled his eyes. “Yes, Dean. I have contacts. You do too. Maybe we just don’t know all the same people. Anyway, like I said, each of the victims had crushed skulls, were drained of their blood through a puncture wound the autopsy reports say was through the back of the head, through what looks to be a human bite. Except the incisors and the canines were sharpened more, to suck in more blood. And the skin was shrivelled. Like all the life was drained from it.” He informs, looking back up at Dean. 

Dean’s face shifts into one of confusion and thought. “Huh, you think it was one of those like… Jefferson Starships or somethin?” he asks, shrugging his shoulders. Sam shrugs back at him, just as confused. 

“My contact doesn’t even know. He says he’s got an idea, but he doesn’t know for sure. He says he’s only been on the case for a few days. By the time we get there he’ll have been there for five. So he’s only slightly more informed than us.” Sam says in his best ‘Please don’t fight with me on this Dean’ face. The face and voice he usually uses when he knows Dean’ll probably be annoyed about anything. Or protest. 

Dean rolled his eyes. “So we’re working on this case with another hunter? A complete stranger?” Dean asks, putting his mug down, barely touched. He stands up, leaning against the map table. 

Sam sighed and looked up in annoyance. He flashes Dean his puppy eyes and looks back at him. “Just give the guy at least an hour. To explain the case and whatnot. Alright? If you really don’t want to work with him after that then… then we’ll work on the case on our own. Okay? You owe me that much.” Sam says in an exasperated tone. 

Dean flashes Sam a look mixed with hurt and anger. He was right though. With how much anger Dean has been lashing out at Sam with for the past six months, Sam deserved him to not pick a fight with him. At least once. 

Dean sighed, grumbled, and rubbed his face. “Fine. One hour with this guy. After that, I’ll decide if we work together or on our own. Okay?” Dean says in a sigh. 

Sam flashes him a smile, taking a sip of his coffee. “Thank you Dean. Besides, I hear they make great pie over in Asheville. Or so I’m told. If you do this with me, I’m sure we can pick up a slice. Or ten.” Sam informs, but instead of Dean’s usual reaction with widened eyebrows and a smile that Sam always appreciates, whether Dean knew it or not, Sam got a shrug and a grunt from Dean. As if the pie didn’t even interest him in the slightest. 

That’s when Sam knew this had to stop. Dean was showing signs of depression that he couldn’t ignore. He just hoped that this case could help straighten Dean out. Or at least get him to start trying to talk about it. 

⬼⬼⬼

As soon as they pulled up to the place that Sam and the GPS that Sam insisted that they use said was their destination, he immediately started to regret ever coming. 

Dean’s first thing that he saw was Castiel’s Lincoln Continental. At that sight, Dean parked the car and started to put the car into reverse. Sam jumped up at Dean’s reaction and forced Dean to put the car back into park. “Look, Dean, I know I should have told you he was here. But if I didn’t, would you have even come?” Sam asks, again flashing his puppy eyes. 

Dean grunts and looks at Sam with a wild rage. One he was only familiar with when he had the mark. “Cas is your contact?” He asks in disbelief, blinking a few times in that same emotion. “Hell yeah I wouldn’t have come! I wouldn’t have wasted so much gas to come up here just to have to turn back!” Dean growled, forcing Sam’s hand away from the shift. 

Sam sighed. “Dean, you promised me you’d give the guy an hour.” Sam protests, feeling fed up with Dean’s excuses. 

Dean growled. “Yeah, and that was when I thought this guy was a flipping stranger! Not Cas!” Dean spat, turning his attention back to the road. Sam sighed exasperatedly, scoffing to himself. 

“You are really that hung up on him? Dean, it’s been six months! You gotta move on.” Sam says in a sigh. Dean grunts again, huffing as he looks out the window and refuses to look at Sam. Sam sighed again, looking out the window for a moment before he spoke again. “Dean, you gotta stop this. It’s changing you. In the end, if this doesn’t change, you’re going to kill yourself Dean. And I’m not gonna lose you because of this. I’d rather lose you at the end of a gun barrel like you’ve always said you’d go, than to lose you to your own mind. So please, give him an hour. If you still hate me and want to go back to the bunker, then we will.” Sam insists, ending in a hard sigh. 

Dean glares out the windshield at the tan car that belonged to his ex. Was he really ever ready? To move on? It was his fault. He was the one to push Castiel away. That told him to leave. The memory still haunted him. It was his fault, he tells himself again. His fault that Cas left, that Cas wanted nothing to do with him. 

Dean sucked in a deep breath and looked at Sam defeated. “Fine. One hour. If he hates me before that time, we’re leaving.” He warns. Sam smiled sympathetically at his brother, happy to see him finally giving it a try. 

“Okay Dean. Promise.” Sam says. They both then climb out of the Impala, Dean more begrudgingly and slow than Sam. Dean stared at the house in front of him. It was so Cas. It spoke volumes to him. The hedges were perfectly trimmed. The house was freaking blue. Sky blue, but still blue. The door was a copper red and the grass was seemingly fresh cut. Seemed fitting for the angel. 

Dean’s heart ached for a moment. He was really going to see him again. Going to see him probably happy. Without him. Dean wasn’t ready. He knew it. Damn Sam and his stupid puppy eyes. 

As Dean stepped up onto the sidewalk and the walkway to Castiel’s freaking house, the door opened, and Dean froze. Out stepped something Dean had only seen in his dreams. A smiling Castiel. He was wearing a navy blue pull-over sweater with a white shirt collar poking up from the collar of the sweater. He was wearing freaking tan khakis. And his shoes were black. He looked like a married man. And Dean couldn’t help his wandering eyes from focusing on where the sweater pulled at Castiel’s muscles. 

Castiel smiled at the two of them, hugging Sam at first in greeting. “Thank you for coming, Sam. I am way in over my head on this case, I appreciate the offer of help.” He says with a smile. That damn smile. Dean can feel his heart thumping in his chest as it skips a beat. Of course he’d still have that reaction. The man is literally gorgeous. 

Castiel then turns his head and his smile slightly falters before he pulls Dean into a slightly less of a hug. Dean widened his eyes in a bit of shock. How can Cas even face him? Dean looked like shit. His eyes were surrounded by dark lines from lack of sleep, his hair was matted, and his flannel and shirt were freaking wrinkled. Cas looked like he just walked out of a Hallmark movie while Dean looked like he just walked out of a dryer. 

Cas pulls away from the hug and his smile stays on his face. It looks natural. Like he wasn’t plagued by nightmares or his own demons. Dean was a little jealous of Cas in that aspect. 

“Would you two like to come in? I’ve just finished up lunch. Though I am not the best cook as of late.” Castiel chuckled. Sam smirked and snickered a bit. Dean still can’t get over how happy Cas seems. How settled down he is. So he finds himself staring. 

Sam nudges Dean’s arm to get his attention, chuckling a bit afterwards. Dean fumbles with his words for a few seconds, making himself look effectively stupid before he finally says something. “Sure. Just don’t poison us.” He says, a little more serious than he meant. 

Sam hesitantly laughs it off and Castiel looks a bit taken aback by the fact that Dean would even think like that. Afterwards, Castiel turns to go back into the house, when a man runs up to Castiel, smiling at him. 

“Hey Cas.” the man says in a greeting smirk. Castiel turns and smiled at the man, pulling him into a short kiss. 

“Hello Spencer. I assume you’re done with your jog then?” Castiel questions. 

Dean can’t help the dread and the hurt that rushes through him as he watches their lips collide. The panic and the guilt, the shame and the regret, all the negative feelings he’d been pushing down for what felt like forever were gushing up towards the faucets in his eyes. He felt the incoming tears and the shock and he started to blink rapidly. Cas was… he’d already moved on? 

Sam seemed no less shocked by the discovery, his mouth agape and his eyebrows raised. Dean found comfort in that at least. 

The man, Spencer, chuckled to himself. “Yeah, just finished those six miles.” He says like it was nothing. He then turns and raises an eyebrow at Dean and Sam. “Babe, who are they?” He asks, a slight smile still on his face. 

Castiel takes Spencer’s hand in his and flashes him a smile. “Honey, these are my old friends. The ones I told you were helping me with this case.” He says. Spencer still seemed wary, but nodded, turning towards Dean and Sam, extending a hand. 

Dean stared at the hand in shock, still blinking back tears like a schoolgirl who just got rejected. The need to run, and run fast filled his every bone and nerve in his body. But his legs just wouldn’t move. Nothing in his body was responding. Everything just shut down. 

The chestnut brown haired male blinked a few times at Dean’s reaction, giving him an awkward smile. The guy smelled like he just took a shower in cologne, and his eyes were a pale, almost lifeless green. An observation that almost made Dean’s heart lurch in his chest. 

When he didn’t get a response, Spencer moved his hand and offered it to Sam. Sam took it hesitantly, introducing himself, but he wasn’t heard by Dean. Now Dean could barely even hear anything. His thoughts were drowning out every sense he had. 

“Dean? Are you alright?” Dean heard Castiel say distantly. But Dean couldn’t respond. 

Get a grip, man. He’s happy. Why can’t you be happy for him? 

Dean finally, after what feels like ages, clears his throat and nodded. “Y-Yeah… Yeah I’m fine… I just…” He starts, his hand reaching up and rubbing his face. “ I just need a few minutes, I’ll meet you guys inside.” Dean says, plastering an obviously fake smile on his face. Cas can obviously tell that it’s fake, by the way his frown deepened. 

“Of course. Take as long as you need, Dean.” Castiel says, his voice much less monotone than Dean remembered. Dean appreciates it, but It also sends a jab of hurt into Dean’s chest. 

Dean forces another smile onto his face as he nods towards the group, turning around and walking away. Dean tried not to make his steps hurried, but he couldn’t help it. He almost ran to the Impala, to the comfort of her drivers seat. 

Once he got into the Impala, and closed the door to make sure no one heard him, or saw him, Dean finally let the floodgates open. And he cried. 

He really fucked up, didn’t he?


	2. Chapter 2

Dean spends a good five minutes behind Baby’s wheel, holding his face in his hands. When did this happen? He finds himself asking. When did Cas move on? How is this guy so much better than him and Dean barely even knows the guy? He doesn’t know. And he doesn’t want to. It hurts enough as it is. 

Dean takes in heavy and deep breaths, uneasy and heavy hearted. He can do this. Cas deserves to be happy. After everything Dean put him through, he deserves his happy ending, Dean thinks. He can taste the bitterness in his thoughts as he tries to convince himself this is for the best. That this is happening and it’s Dean’s fault. He can’t change it. Dean would rather stab himself in the gut than to take Castiel’s happiness away. Especially because he realized how much of a dumbass he was. Now the angel had to know. It had been written all over Dean’s face as he had begun to break down. He regretted everything. That he regretted ever pushing the angel away when he needed him the most. 

Dean’s always been one to hide his feelings. It’s never been a secret. Sam knows it. Bobby knew it. Hell, even Cas knew it. Up until Sam locked him and Cas in a room and refused to open the door again until Dean had confessed. It still makes Dean chuckle, even if a small bit. 

He’d never known anything different. John had always worn a stone cold expression, said that feelings were weakness. Dean guessed he took him very seriously during that lesson. No matter what he felt, Dean knew things would never get better. He refused to let himself hurt. To give into weakness. But why couldn’t he have done that at least with Cas? Didn’t he deserve that? 

Dean rubbed his eyes free from tears, trying to settle the sobbing that had erupted in his chest. He couldn’t be doing this. He had to be happy. Try to be. For Cas. Not for himself. Never for himself. Castiel was happy. Why couldn’t Dean be happy for him? He’d found his someone. The man that would treat him better than any broken way Dean could. And Dean just had to accept that. No matter how hard. 

Dean took three large breaths, and flipped down the visor. He opened the mirror and started to fix his hair, trying to look less like a hermit and an alcoholic and more like the Dean Castiel used to know. The less broken one. Dean straightened his shirt, and his flannel. He pulled on his spare hunting jacket, and made sure to arm himself. He’d feel better with the press of his demon knife in the pocket against his chest, right? 

Once semi satisfied with how he looked, he ran a hand through his hair and stepped right back out onto the street. The houses were all unique. None were the same. Perfect for Cas, Dean thought. Dean pushed the thought away and shoved down the tears and the sharp pain of regret that threatened to bubble over. He could cry later. In his sleep. Like he always does. 

Once he stepped back up to the house with the copper door, and the picket white windows, and the perfect hedges, he knocked on the door. His nerves picked up quickly as he heard footsteps approaching the door. Dean knew better than to pull out his hunting knife. But his fear was much too similar to the wariness of a hunt. He didn’t know for sure how things were going to go. 

When the door opened, Dean had to fight away the scowl. Spencer had greeted him at the door, seemingly clean now. He still smelled awful. Like he had just taken a full on dunk in a pool of cologne. Dean almost turned up his nose at the stench. 

“Hey, Dean, right? Cas had told me a lot about you.” Spencer says, using what Dean could tell was a fake grin. Fake asshole, Dean thought. “And your brother Sam, of course. About your hunts together.” Spencer clarifies, standing at the door, almost not letting Dean in. 

“Yeah, yeah that’s my name. I’m good now. I uh… can I come in?” Dean asks, shoving his shaking hands into his pockets. “Or am I banished from seeing my old best friend again?” Dean asks in a half teasing half serious tone. 

Spencer starts to laugh at Dean’s expression, an obvious fake laugh. Dean joins him after a moment, and the laughter fades as fake as it started. With a sigh, Dean looks at Spencer, still inspecting him. He had to make sure he was good enough. Make sure that he was going to be good for Castiel. To be the boyfriend to Castiel that Dean couldn’t be. 

After a moment, Castiel walked up to the door and smiled at Dean, pushing Spencer slightly to the side. “Dean,” He says, a happy but still concerned look on his face. “Are you okay?” He asks, putting a hand on Dean’s shoulder. 

Dean felt a sob bubble up in his throat at Castiel’s touch. One Dean had to once again shove down. Dean could feel the care in his hand. Castiel’s grace just buzzing in his hand. Dean recalled Castiel pushing his grace through Dean to calm him, to arouse him, to heal him, on multiple occasions. He missed it. And he wondered just how much Spencer got to feel that. 

Dean cleared his throat and nodded. “Yeah, yeah I’m-I’m good. Never better.” He lied, forcing another smile onto his face. Dean patted Castiel’s shoulder like he did before they ever got together, when they were just friends and walked inside as Castiel made room. He didn’t want to look behind him, but the mirror of the glass on the painting in the entry way showed Dean Castiel’s hurt face at Dean’s actions. Like he was reminded of what he missed. 

Dean sighed and walked into the entryway, before turning and finding the kitchen, seeing Sam there sat at a bar stool eating… something green. Dean didn’t feel hungry anyway. Dean took a seat, feeling the regret starting to pile up again in his chest. Sam looked over at Dean and sighed, offering him a plate of… whatever he was eating. 

Dean shook his head, and firmed his face, swallowing his feelings. He didn’t need them anyway. He had the fake ones. Sam frowned and pulled the plate back over to himself, about to speak up again before the devil walked in. 

Spencer entered the room with a smile on his face, and he pushed against his glasses that he wore. He leaned against the counter, making room for Castiel. Castiel seemed less cheery than he was before. Dean immediately regretted his decision to give in to his harsh thoughts. 

You know better than that Dean! Stop being an ass! 

“Don’t think I didn’t want to see you, Cas. It’s just been so long that I needed a moment.” He says, fidgeting in his seat, still unable to look him in the eyes. Unable to look into those angelic blue eyes that Dean used to wake up to. 

Castiel sighed and nodded, shrugging slightly. Dean could feel the awkward tension was thick between them. Sam or Dean could cut it with a knife. “It’s quite alright, Dean. I understand that you needed your space.” Castiel assures, his body moving a little closer to Spencer. 

Sam clears his throat, finally easing the tension between the two. Dean sighed in relief, looking down. He was trying so hard to do this for Castiel. To be happy for him. But it was proving to be a much harder task than he thought. “So… Tell us about the case. You’ve been on the case for longer, so you should have more information than us.” Sam assumed. 

Castiel shook his head, turning around and pulling out a mug and pouring coffee into it. “No, for as long as I’ve been on the case, We have almost nothing. I gave you all that we know. Each victim had no correlation to the next. None that we’ve seen.” Castiel says, casting a glance at Spencer who nods. 

“Yeah, each of the victims, same cause of death. Each showed signs of a struggle before their heads were crushed. By bare hands.” Spencer adds. Sam widened his eyes and furrowed his eyebrows in complete confusion. 

“Wait, what? Bare hands? You didn’t say anything about that Cas.” Sam brings up, turning his gaze towards the angel. His eyes still flickered back towards Dean occasionally, though Dean still refused to look up. Apparently the blank white countertop was much more appealing. Castiel’s eyes followed Dean’s for a moment, trying to see if maybe he’d look back up at him. Castiel’s frown deepens and he takes in a hefty sigh. 

“We’ve only recently been able to see the victims. Test their blood types, anything that might connect them.” Spencer says, pulling off his glasses and cleaning them with his red t-shirt. Dean has to force a growl down as he can visibly see Spencer’s runner abs and muscles. His legs are amazingly sculpted. No matter how much Dean despised this man, he could mentally admit that he was better physically than Dean ever was. Dean’s own frown firmed, and the feeling of needing to cry tried to surface again. Dean swallowed the feeling and squeezed his eyes shut, taking a sharp and quick deep breath so as to not start sobbing or to let anyone know how he was feeling. 

Sam glances over at Dean, who’s messing with the sleeve of his hunting jacket instead of looking up. Then he suddenly does, surprising everyone in the room. “You tested their blood? Seriously man? Try family ties. See if they know each other. Sure, test to see if the wounds are the freaking same, see if the marks are different. But don’t just test for blood type. That’s stupid.” Dean grumbled, making Spencer furrow his eyebrows. 

Castiel firms his glare at Dean, blowing a hard puff of air out of his nose. “Dean, please. He’s new at hunting.” Castiel tries. Dean grumbles, again looking down at his sleeve and the counter. 

“Well you could at least teach him what he needs to look for. Not damn blood types. Vamps and monsters do not care what flipping blood you got rushing through you, just that you got some.” Dean huffs in a less harsh tone. This was finally him. The hunter that Dean knew. At least now he could focus on the hunt and not how Castiel looked at him so pitifully. 

“And would you stop with those puppy eyes, Cas? You’re just as bad as Sam.” Dean adds, getting all three of the men’s attention. He grumbled again, settling back in the barstool and hunching his shoulders. Dean’s universal sign of ‘leave me the hell alone’. 

Sam speaks up again after a moment, trying to focus on the case rather than Dean’s harsh behavior. “Okay well, has anything stood out? Places? Any connections between the victims at all?” Sam asks. 

Spencer huffs. “Well, each of the victims were O negative. So maybe there’s your connection.” Spencer suggests, making Dean scoff. When Dean looked up to try and speak, he caught a glimpse of Spencer’s glare towards him, which dared him to speak. Dared him to step up and make a fool of himself again. Dean didn’t feel small per say, but he did immediately get a sense of shame, and of reason. 

Castiel sighed and raised an eyebrow as Dean’s mouth opened to speak, and as his eyes met Spencer's he closed it, looking right back at the counter. That was strange. What could make Dean Winchester shut his mouth like that? Nothing could do that to the Dean he knew. Which is what confused him, and drew out the pang of hurt in his chest as he watched the elder Winchester. 

Sam sighed a bit. “Well, how long have you two been together?” Sam asks, leaning closer to the two. Dean forces down a hiss of disapproval. Why that question Sam? 

Castiel sighed and chuckled, leaning closer to Spencer and wrapping an arm around him. “Only two months. He’s only recently moved in here. His landlord was evicting him, so I offered him to stay with me.” Castiel says, looking at Spencer lovingly. 

Dean feels sick to his stomach and that he might just hurl. Not because it was disgusting, but because Castiel and him had never even shared a room together when they had been dating. Courting as Castiel called it. But now Cas was sharing a bed, a room, a house with this guy. Maybe he was superior to Dean, in every way possible. 

“W-well… congratulations Cas. Glad you’re happy. Even with a guy who smells like he just walked out of a cologne shower.” Dean says, getting another glare from Spencer, but a smirk from Castiel. Almost like he knew it was true, and he was happy Dean even said something. 

Sam looked over at his brother, and his gaze shifted from him to the other two in the room. “Well, I guess we’ll try to talk to the locals tomorrow. Some of your neighbors might’ve seen something.” Sam suggests. Castiel looked up at Sam at the insistence of the two staying, making Castiel smile. 

“We have a neighborhood barbeque scheduled in a few days, why don’t we wait till then? We will have all of the neighbors together then. Perhaps we can draw the monster out then?” Castiel suggests. 

Dean huffed in annoyance. He’d rather be getting this hunt done and completed than go to some stupid neighborhood gathering where everyone is fake and he’ll probably have to watch Castiel be happy and be happy for him for hours on end with no escape. And no alcohol. 

Sam smiled. “Sounds perfect. Maybe we can go look at the autopsy reports tomorrow. See if we can find any more links.” He suggests and widens his smile at the angel and Spencer. Dean rolled his eyes where neither of the men could see. 

“That is perfect. We’ll buy our time until then. Do you two have a place to sleep? We have a guest bedroom you can use.” Castiel offered. Sam’s eyes widened at being able to be closer to Castiel and to support him, but before he could accept Dean sprung up from his seat. 

“We already have a motel room. Sorry Cas.” Dean says, forcing another smile on his face. The thought of having no escape from the constant reminder that he fucked up, that felt like torture. He’d rather take his chances in a questionable motel room than that. 

Sam raised an eyebrow. He turned to Castiel and shook his head. “Well I for one, wouldn’t mind staying Cas.” He says, giving Dean a stink eye. Dean can feel his lips curling into a scowl, and he has to rub his face and look away to keep from insulting or hurting Castiel again. 

Castiel looks disappointed when Dean insists that they already have a motel room instead of accepting his offer. But he doesn’t let the feeling last. “Well, alright. Feel free to stay one of these nights, Dean. we do have a couch as well.” Castiel extends the offer again, on a much more appealing olive branch. Dean shrugs. 

“Maybe. But no promises. Thanks though.” Dean says, giving Castiel his best apologetic look. Spencer seems to be pleased, smiling at both Castiel and Sam, ignoring Dean completely. Castiel smiles at Dean, glad that he could finally at least partially get through to him. Despite whatever was running through Dean’s head, Castiel still cared. 

After another moment of, in Dean’s opinion, fuzzy feelings pass and then Dean has to clear his throat. “Well I should get going then. Sammy is obviously staying here, and I would really like to get to eating some greasy diner food. Good luck with your rabbit food Sam, Cas. And uh… nice to meet you Spence’.” Dean says, snapping his fingers and giving him finger guns as he began to walk away backwards. 

Castiel again looked disheartened at Dean’s urgency to leave. But he could understand why. He nods and smiles at his old friend. “Alright Dean. Please, take care.” He says. Dean nods wordlessly and turns around, and walks out the door, fully planning on drinking himself stupid in whatever motel room he could find. 

⬼⬼⬼

Dean grunts as he pulls up to the scene, a full hangover in swing. His head was pounding, and when Sam had called that morning saying that there had been another killing, he had cursed him out for calling so ‘early’ when it had only been 9 am. So yeah, so far, his day hasn’t been so great.

Dean parks Baby a small distance away from the scene, stepping out in his FBI suit and running a hand through his messy light brown hair as he approaches a similarly dressed Castiel and Sam. His heart was still pounding as he walked up, but not as much as before. The thought and the knowledge that he’d get to go back to the bunker and shamelessly drink away all his feelings was something he cherished. 

As he stalked up the walkway, he couldn’t help but overhear Sam and Castiel talking. “So… how is he? Is he treating you right?” Sam asks Castiel, seemingly talking about the cologne swimmer. Dean quickened his pace, trying to not have to hear much of the conversation. 

Castiel blushes and nods, looking down in embarrassment. “Yes he is. He makes time for me. He even brought home flowers for me after his work a few days ago after we started the hunt. I didn’t even expect them.” Castiel smiled, his eyes flashing Sam a look full of endearment for the aforementioned cologne swimmer. 

Dean felt his chest ache with jealousy. Dean couldn’t get Cas flowers. Cas had always criticized that plucking flowers took away their beauty. So for him to accept flowers from what’s his name, it was a huge blow to his heart and his pride. 

Once Castiel noticed Dean he stopped talking about Spencer. He instead focused his attention on the incoming Winchester. Dean quickly forced a firm line on his face, knowing that was more believable than any fake smile he could muster after the previous night filled with alcohol and tears. 

“Hey Cas. Hey Sam. You missed quite the porno marathon last night. So, who was it this time?” Dean asks, shoving his hands into his pockets as he lied about what he’d done the previous night. It wasn’t like either of them could read him and see that he was suffering from a harsh hangover. Castiel seemed to be inspecting him, almost trying to pick apart the pieces of his soul that Dean had made sure after Castiel had left to get clouded, warded against any angel seeing his deepest feelings. Even pesky archangels that want to try and read him for a weakness. 

Sam rolled his eyes at Dean’s excuse, slightly believing that he had watched a porno the previous night. “Well, this one was a guy. His name was Thor of all things. He actually looked kinda like the guy who plays him in the movies. But with the added beer gut. He was a biker and he stood out from the others. We haven’t talked to the witnesses but apparently this guy had an ego.” Sam says, chuckling. Dean rolled his eyes. 

“Sam, I’ve told you, the guy was Chris Hemsworth.” He says, turning to Castiel. Dean gives Castiel a weird look as Castiel was still focused on him, like he was trying to reach through the warding that Dean had written onto his skin. Dean blinked a few times, awkwardly looking at Cas. “Uh… Cas? You okay there man?” He asks. 

Castiel narrows his eyebrows. “You’ve warded your soul and mind against me.” He announces, making Sam turn and give Dean a surprised and annoyed look. Dean sighed and ignored Castiel’s declaration. 

“So where's cologne guy? Thought he was your ‘hunting partner’.” Dean grumbled, huffing as he shoves his hands deeper into his pockets. Dean averted Castiel’s intensifying gaze, refusing to let Sam reprimand him either. 

Castiel sighed. “He’s over there. Doing his job.” Castiel says with a hint of animosity, pointing over to where the body laid. Dean turned his head and he saw a man with the ‘Forensic’ labeled jacket turn around and smile at the group, waving his hand. Upon further examination, Dean could tell it was cologne di-Spencer. 

Dean grumbled and sighed. “Alright well, I’ll go check the perimeter, check to see if the monster left anything behind.” He excuses, walking away from the two without another word. As he slowed in his run walk away, he could still hear Sam and Castiel’s conversation. 

“He isn't taking this well… Is he?” Castiel asks in a caring voice. Dean almost falls over at the words. Of course he wasn’t. 

“No Cas. He really isn’t. He’s been kind of kicking himself for the past six months. You should have seen him…” Sam started, but Dean couldn’t stand there and listen to his closest family talk behind his back anymore. So he almost started running immediately. 

Dean caught a glimpse of the body first. It was like Spencer had described before. The skin was impossibly shrivelled. His hair was gray and barely even the dark ginger that it had been. And the skull was crushed. 

Dean turned his face away again, and continued in his run. Then he did something he wasn’t proud of. 

A police officer was stepping away from the scene with a note-pad filled with witness reports and he looked up to see Dean running away from the scene. The officer instead of minding his own business, stepped in front of Dean and cleared his throat. “Excuse me, but this killing only happened a half hour ago. I have to question everyone.” The officer started. Dean rolled his eyes, his chest beginning to heave and his heart began to pound a mile a minute. He could literally hear the blood roaring in his ears, and it was getting harder to breathe. He didn’t have time for this. 

Dean grunted and pushed past the officer. “Sorry, but I don’t have the time to answer any of your stupid fucking questions-” Dean growled in a huff. Instead of being able to get away, the officer grabbed Dean’s wrist and held him in place. 

“Sir, you have to answer my questions. If you want to ease the suspicion of you-” the officer started and tried to explain. Dean wasn’t listening. The blood roaring in his ears and the drowning thoughts in his head were too much. And then things turned red, and Dean’s now clenched fist collided with the officer’s face. 

The officer immediately tried to go after Dean when he had begun to run, but Dean’s own mind got to him first. He began to see spots in his vision. He felt like he weighed a thousand pounds, and that gravity was pushing against him. His world was caving in. He felt helpless. Before the officer could catch up to Dean's now running form, Dean’s face collided with the asphalt.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning!! Please, everyone who is reading this! I have some spoilery warnings. This chapter features suicide ideology. Please tread carefully. Know that suicide is never a solution. It's an escape. Things do get better. 
> 
> National Suicide Prevention Lifeline  
> 1-800-273-8255

Dean slowly woke up, but not where he expected to be. He opened his eyes, immediately feeling the tears he’d been crying in his sleep falling against his cheek. He sighed to himself, getting quite annoyed with his persistent problem. Dean goes to wipe away the evidence of his tears, but his hand is held against the wall. Dean chuckled sadly, looking down at his hand. 

What had even happened? All he remembered was running off to get away from Sam and from Cas, his breathing getting shallow and restricted, his chest beginning to hurt, the officer… Then it clicked. Dean cursed and put his head in his free hand. All he was doing was causing himself more pain by being here. By trying to be ‘happy’ for Cas. Well he’s not. 100 points to Captain Obvious. 

If Dean was going to be completely honest, he would have rather have never come, than to deal with any of his own bullshit. Seeing that angel, the only ‘man’ he’s truly ever loved. The only person he’d ever had true feelings for again but this time he was with some asshole, it was pure torture. 

Dean let himself fantasize what it will be like once he goes home to the bunker. He’ll be able to go back, clean up his disgusting room, buy a ton more liquor, and drink himself to death. Maybe then he’ll be able to feel something other than these feelings. Even if it’s just more pain from being on the rack. 

“So, you gonna tell me why I come in here, and I hear you crying in your sleep, Dean?” Dean hears. Dean curses and runs his hand through his hair. Of course Sam would be the first person to come see him after he assaulted a police officer for touching him while he was panicking. 

“Sam… not now, please. My head is pounding…” He grumbled, rubbing his forehead. Sam scoffed, rolling his eyes and looking up at the ceiling. 

“Yeah. Probably from the mountains of alcohol you drank last night Dean. Porn marathon my ass, Dean. This whole thing was supposed to help you move on, not literally punch a police officer just because you were too pissed to answer a few damn questions-” Sam questions his brother, crossing his arms and scolding him. Dean growled. Sam planned this? Forced him to come here knowing he was going to hurt him? Bullshit. 

“Well sorry, Sam, I ain’t Mother Theresa! What? Do you expect me to get better overnight? Especially when I wasn’t fucking ready to move on?!” He yells, glaring at his brother angrily. “And the cop? Yeah, I wasn’t angry. I was breaking down cause I thought my brother wasn’t gonna talk behind my back to the one mother-freaking angel that I specifically warded my feelings against!” Dean roars, his eyebrows furrowing in a heavy expression over his eyes. 

Sam’s eyes began to widen in both shock, and in disbelief that Dean heard any of that. Sam searched his mind, his mouth moving a bit as he tried to formulate words. Before he got the chance to retaliate, a police officer walked into the room. In his stone cold expression he unlocked the cell door. 

“Come on, you’ve been cleared.” the officer huffed, walking in and uncuffing Dean from the wall. Dean grumbled, rubbing his wrist as he walked out of the cell, ignoring his brother’s gaze. He knew exactly what he was going to do as soon as he was out of this place. He didn’t care about the hunt anymore. He was going home. He was going to smash some vampires faces in and go back to the bunker. Sam could find his own way home. 

The officer directed Dean towards the main area of the waiting room and immediately Dean wanted to groan. It was cologne shower. He was talking to the chief, but Dean could barely hear what he was saying till he was moved forward. 

“So you see, Chief, Officer Chuy was actually in the wrong, he grabbed Dean when it was clear he was suffering from an anxiety attack, furthering his anxious feelings.” Spencer informs the chief, who nods somewhat, almost agreeing with his statement. Dean widened his eyes in disbelief. Was this guy really standing there? As Dean was struggling to even breathe? Asshole. And even the chief was believing him? 

Dean scoffed, the officer leading him out forcing him to stand next to the two. The chief then looked towards Dean. “So, Mr. Thornhill, is Mr. Desmond’s testimony of the events true? Was that how it happened?” The chief asks. Dean rolled his eyes, rubbing his face to wipe the annoyed and angry look from his face as he spoke up again. 

“Yeah. Yeah that’s what happened.” He grumbled, yanking his arm from the police officer’s grip. Dean almost didn’t believe it, but he swore he saw Spencer’s face shift into a triumphant one. With a smirk to boot. Dean had to bite back a snarky remark. He was a recently released ‘inmate’. He didn’t want to warrant them shoving him back in the cell when he had such a plan for the rest of the night. 

Castiel looked from Spencer, a nervous look on his face before he saw Dean. His eyes widened and he stood up from the chair he’d been sitting in. He smiled and walked up to Dean, going to hug him. Dean felt his heart jump and he stepped away, his hard expression tightening. Castiel looks at him confused, and quite a bit hurt by his actions. 

“Dean…” Castiel starts, straightening his body again. “What happened? We had just watched you leave. Why couldn’t you have just answered the officer’s questions?” Castiel asked, not believing the entirety of the story. Specifically the part where Dean was literally panicking and trying desperately to breathe and NOT hurt someone. 

Dean rolled his eyes. “Can it Cas, just shove it up your feathery ass. Not even my own brother believes me. I don’t need my ex best friend doing the same.” He says harshly, causing Castiel to widen his eyes at the elder Winchester. Castiel took a step forward, glaring at Dean. 

“Dean, Spencer has done you a favor. You would still be in that cell if it weren’t for him-” Castiel starts, trying to defend his partner. Spencer slightly puffs up his chest. It’s obvious he loves this attention. Dean rolls his eyes and looks up, shaking his head. 

“Fuck Spencer! I ain’t talking about him! I’m talking about how this whole--fiasco! Was just a ruse from you and my ass of a brother to try and force me to move on! Well guess what?! I AIN’T READY!! I haven’t been! Ever! Why can’t either of you believe me when I was literally struggling to breathe because you two couldn’t keep your damn conversations at home!” He yelled at Cas, his shoulders hunching and his face growing redder with each passing second. 

Castiel’s face immediately turned white at the revelation that Dean knew. That he had found out what he had talked with Sam about. He looked down shamefully, as if he knew he was in the wrong here. “Dean… Yes, this was unfair. But don’t you think I just wanted to be friends again? That’s allowed, isn’t it?” He asks exasperatedly. Dean’s expression hardens and he sneers at the angel. 

“No. No, I don’t think anything between us can be salvaged. So go fuck your cologne-loving boyfriend, and leave me the hell alone. I don’t want anything to do with you again. Friends, pah, who needs ‘em? Right?” He growled, narrowing his eyes at Castiel before he shoves past him, and turns to leave. 

Castiel watches in horror as he watches Dean stalk towards the door. He doesn’t know this feeling, but it’s coming on strong and he can’t stop the tears that escape his eyes. Spencer immediately pulls Castiel into his arms, being the protective boyfriend he was. 

Sam watches as well, but isn’t as frozen in shock as he goes to call out to Dean. “Dean wait!” He calls, trying to run after his brother. Dean rolls his eyes and looks behind him annoyedly. That’s when he sees it. The slight flash of bright, glowing red that escapes Spencer’s eyes. Like he was damning Dean to hell. But that was definitely not normal. Dean widened his eyes at the discovery, and he almost started to charge toward the man to question him. 

Sam grabs Dean’s shoulders and leads him out of the building, sighing as he tries to explain. “Dean, look, I know doing this behind your back was… it was stupid. But we had to do it. Cas wanted to mend things and I-” Sam starts. Dean shook his head, fighting against Sam’s hold. 

“No that was definitely fucking stupid. But did you see that?! Spencer’s eyes literally glowed red! Not that dead ass green color his eyes were before, Sam! Cas is in danger you gotta-” Dean starts to ramble, a feeling and a drive to protect what had once been his filled his every need. Sam rolled his eyes and slammed Dean against the outer wall of the police station. 

“Dean! This has to stop! Spencer isn’t the monster, Dean. Do you really think Cas would be dating the monster? I think you’re just jealous! And that’s okay!” Sam says in another exasperated sigh. Dean shook his head. 

“Sam, I am not jealous. That mother’s eyes just freaking glowed! He’s the f-ing monster-” Dean starts to ramble again. Sam rolled his eyes again and hardened his grip on Dean. 

“DEAN!!” He yelled. “Spencer literally covered for you! Show some kind of gratitude, man. This is getting out of hand.” Sam says with a sigh. “Why can’t you just believe that for once, Cas is happy?” Sam asks. Dean stops, and he glares at Sam, his chest beginning to tighten again as he felt the stab of Sam’s words. So he wasn’t ever truly happy with him? Sounds about right. 

Dean forces the tears down for just a little longer as he shoves Sam off of him and hardens his glare. “Why can’t you believe your own brother, for once?” He jabs back, before he stomps away from the building, leaving two broken men and two shattered relationships behind. 

⬼⬼⬼

When Dean returns to his motel room, all he can think is to run. To go home. Drink himself silly. His mind is running a mile a minute with all of his exploded feelings trying to recollect themselves into the bottle that he’d always been hiding them in. Tears gush down from his eyes and he just cannot seem to make them stop. He feels almost one with the heavy and the harsh rain that pounds down on the windshield of the Impala. Dean can barely breathe again, but he refuses to pass out. 

Once he’s parked outside his small little room, he angrily gets out of the car. He slams her driver’s door and stomps up to his room. He unlocked the door hastily, and stepped into the questionable atmosphere. He spots his duffle on the ground, picks it up and starts to stuff all of his clothing into it. He didn’t care about wrinkles, or if he was ripping anything. He just needed to get out of here. 

Dean’s chest heaves with his sobs and his hiccups as he slings his now packed duffle over his back, racing out to the Impala again. He leaves the motel room key under the mat carelessly and just climbs into Baby. He tosses his bag into the back seat in a huff, starting Baby’s engine and shifting her into gear. Dean hoped that maybe the quiet hum and thrall of her engine would soothe him. But as the rain drowned out her purrs, and his thoughts drowned out all reason, he couldn’t find one shred of relief. 

So Dean did the only thing he knew how to do, even in his current state of mind; He drove. 

Dean drove down the road, trying with all of his remaining consciousness to go the speed limit. As he pulled up to the intersection that lead out of town, he spotted something. The bright, lit up LED sign that clearly labeled itself as Adam’s Liquor Store. He didn’t think twice. 

So instead of running out of town, Dean just drove. He drove the long ways, the backways, even the shortcuts until he ran out of gas. Right up near a cliff. Dean parked as well as he could in his now tipsy state, and he tumbled out of the Impala. Dean carried the full bottle of whiskey with him, chugging the golden brown liquor as he approached the edge of the cliff. He was so, so done. Done with all the lies, the cheating, the feelings. Done with all the hiding, the tears, the nightmares. And he was done with his own self doubt telling him he wasn’t going to ever be good enough. 

Dean looked down at the bottle, finding it empty. He sighed annoyedly, until an idea came into his head. A new one. But not one he hasn’t considered before. If he shattered this bottle, if he pulled out his gun… if he ended it right now it would all be over. Hunting, the depression, Sam’s ignorance, Castiel being such a hurtful reminder of all that he’s done wrong, of who he’s hurt. It would all be over. 

Dean looks down at the bottle again, taking a deep breath before he smashed it against the guard rail that kept him from the cliff’s edge. The end of the bottle shattered against the metal, creating a sharp end that he could use however he wanted. The thought kept racing through his head. That it could be over. That he wouldn’t have to go the way he always says. That he can give up now. 

Dean shook his head. What was he thinking? He was drunk. He wasn’t thinking clearly. Nor was he breathing correctly. He wasn’t going to let himself give up like that. The old Dean inside of him still had pride. And his pride wouldn’t let him go like this. Not by his own hand. 

Dean dropped the remaining portion of the bottle over the cliff. He couldn’t. Not here. And not now. He wasn’t totally sure if he was even going to hit on target. He was already beginning to see spots. 

That was again, the last thing he thought of before he hit the dirt. 

⬼⬼⬼

Dean woke up again to a bright light, hissing immediately at the harsh invasion. He covered his eyes, looking around to find himself lying against cushions, instead of grass like he had passed out on before. He grumbled and rubbed his eyes free from sleep, feeling yet again the trail of tears he’d left there overnight. He let out a soft ‘son of a bitch’ before he began to sit up, hissing when he felt his back and stomach protest from the quick movement. 

“Don’t move too quickly, your body will force you to vomit.” a voice says, gruff but still full of care. Dean looked up from where he had been sitting, and he found Castiel sitting in a chair across from the couch, reading a lore book. Dean rolled his eyes slightly, mainly just confused. Why was he here? Why wasn’t he back on that patch of grass he’d passed out on? 

Dean narrowed his eyes and looked up at Castiel, he then opened his mouth to speak. But Castiel beat him to it. “I know you, Dean. You may not think that I do, but I have seen every part of your soul. I knew this would be something you would do.” He says, flipping a page. 

Dean gave Castiel a look of confusion. This still wasn’t clicking for him. Maybe it was the hangover, he thought. Castiel sighed and closed his book. He stood up, walking over to Dean and placing his book on the coffee table between them. He picked up a plate that had a cherry turnover on it and placed it into Dean’s hands, giving him a glare that told him he was eating it. “I know you haven’t been eating, Dean. Barely drinking. You need your nourishment as a human.” He says at first, sighing heavily. Dean lessened his furrowed eyebrows, taking a small bite of the turn over, putting it back down. 

Castiel’s blue eyes flared up and he placed the plate back in Dean’s hands. “You need to eat, Dean. And drink. You need to flush the alcohol out of your system.” Castiel reminds again, giving more insight to what he meant. Dean took in a heavy sigh, taking another bite of the turnover. 

“Cas… why am I here?” He asks, looking at the angel questioningly. Castiel’s eyes traveled and looked into Dean’s, making him sigh once more. 

“Dean, when you left the station, I was hurt. But I knew, I could feel that you were hurting more. That you were pushing me away again.” Castiel starts, making Dean’s chest hurt from the reminder. “So I left to find you. Sam and Spencer refused to go with me. Saying you needed your space. But I wasn’t going to risk being the reason for your suicide.” Castiel deadpans, handing Dean a glass of water. Dean widened his eyes at Castiel’s declaration. Was that really what Cas thought Dean was doing out there? 

Dean pushed the glass of water away. “Cas, I wasn’t-” Dean started hesitantly. Castiel’s eyes flashed to his with a knowing look. 

“I told you Dean, I know you. And with everything that I’ve seen and heard that you’ve been doing, it’s safe to say I was right.” Castiel insists, pushing the glass into Dean’s hand. Dean couldn’t even believe his own ears. How could Cas have known? He hadn’t left anything that could have eluded to that train of thought. 

Castiel sighed again, putting two fingers against Dean’s forehead, pushing his grace into him to help ease the hangover. “You may have hidden your deepest felt feelings from me Dean, but that does not mean I cannot heal you. That I cannot read you. When I was human I did that very well.” Castiel informs, his glare still one of care, but it was also a firm one. Dean’s breath hitched as he felt Castiel’s grace again, unable to even protest his healing before he performed it. 

Castiel shifted in his seat and he sat back as he took his fingers away, even when there was no back for him to rest against. “I found you close to that cliff, Dean. I found the broken bottle pieces. I carried you back here.” He says, placing his hand in his lap. Dean looks up at him, wondering how Cas could even stand to be around him after what he’d done to him. How much he’s hurt him. 

Castiel put a hand on Dean’s leg, trying to level with him. “Dean… you were crying. In your sleep. Do you know how concerning that is? That you have fallen so far that you’ve resorted to releasing your feelings while your body is unconscious?” He asks. Dean moves his leg so that Castiel’s hand moves away from him. Castiel again exhales as he looks back at Dean, questioning him and his well-being. 

Dean’s eyes glanced over at Castiel warily, knowing he was going to read farther into his attitude, his actions, trying to be his therapist. At least, that’s how he felt. 

Castiel sighed once more. “Dean, this needs to stop. You need help for this. It isn’t healthy-” Castiel started again, and at once Dean snaps his gaze towards Castiel. 

“No Cas, I’m fine. I have personally, never been better.” He insists, forcing yet another hard expression onto his face. Castiel looks down at Dean’s feet, knowing that this wasn’t going to work. Not with Dean pushing him away as he was. 

“Fine, Dean. If you are being truthful, and you have never been better, then stay. Help with the case as you promised. After that? You do not have to see me again.” Castiel says in a firm tone. Dean sighed heavily, knowing that he had no way out of this. “If you don’t? And you still insist on leaving? I will follow.” Castiel warns. Dean turns his head towards the angel in confusion, and in surprise. He opens his mouth to question him, but Castiel holds up a hand. “I will make sure you do not fall deeper into this hole you’re digging for yourself. I will not lose you to your own mind.” Castiel says, his sky blue eyes digging deep into Dean’s soul, still wishing he could read his deeper feelings, understand what exactly was the core of him resorting to suicide. 

Dean furrows his eyebrows and he lets out a harsh exhale. He was right, Castiel wasn’t going to truly leave him to drown his sorrows in liquor and hunting. He sighed, and looked back up into Castiel’s caring blue eyes. He remembered once being able to just look into the angel’s eyes and to feel relief, to feel eased of all his worries because his angel was there. His angel was there to fight them away. But he wasn’t his angel anymore. He was Spencer's. 

Dean grunts and sighs. “Fine. I’ll stick around. With that recent murder we should be able to find some connections anyway.” He says, beating around the bush that was the issue. But when Dean looked back at Castiel, he almost smiled, seeing Castiel’s pearly whites flashing back at him as he was relieved that Dean wasn’t going to truly leave. 

That smile was fueling him, Dean decided. If he could get Castiel to smile, then he knew it was worth it. That he was making the right decision. He just hoped Spencer wouldn’t chase him away first.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, sorry this one was late. I hate writer's block. :/ 
> 
> Anyway, this one kinda got away from me, so I hope you enjoy the whole thousand more words than usual.

Dean couldn’t remember a time when he and Castiel had been so close. Castiel, instead of walking away to leave Dean alone, he stayed with him, even if he didn’t say anything more. Castiel’s body was so close to Dean’s own, and he just couldn’t stop his breath from hitching. 

“So… wait, how did you meet this guy again?” Dean asks, taking a bite of the almost completely eaten turnover. He finds himself scooting closer to Castiel, his heart pounding from the close proximity to him. For the past two hours, Dean had been talking with Castiel, asking him questions, when Castiel had mentioned something about meeting Spencer in a bookstore. Fitting for Castiel. 

Castiel found himself blushing as he answered Dean’s question. Castiel ran a hand through his hair, pushing some of the stray hairs back. “Spencer and I met in the bookstore in town. He smelled awful, at least, that’s what everyone around him said.” Castiel chuckled. “So I recommended him one of the old cologne brands you used to use. He thanked me, and bought me the books I was carrying.” Castiel blushes again, sending a jab of hurt into Dean’s chest. 

Dean forced himself to maintain the gentle and loving smile on his face. But in his head he was cursing himself. He could have done so much worse, and so much better with Castiel. But Dean knew he could never truly give Castiel what he truly wanted. A normal life. Spencer could. He was a forensic scientist, and Castiel had a freakin house with him. With Dean? Castiel never found the bunker home. At least, that was what Dean gathered from his attitude and his opinion of the bunker. Always thought that Dean and Sam deserved someplace better. 

So as Castiel was explaining how he’d begun to fall for the Cologne Shower man, Dean felt his chest aching again. Castiel was happy, and again, Dean didn’t want to ruin that. 

“Dean? You haven’t said anything for the past few moments. Am I talking too much-?” Castiel asks, pausing as he had been lifting a glass of water to his lips. Dean panickedly shook his head, but before he could muster answer, the door opened. 

And in walked the devil. More like Spencer. 

“Cassie! We’re back-” Spencer’s dead green eyes scanned the room as he called out to Castiel, stopping dead as he saw Dean on the couch. His hand raised and pointed at Dean, groceries in the opposite hand. “Why is he here, Castiel?” He asks, clearly not happy. Sam walked in behind Spencer and spotted Dean, sighing as he put down the groceries on the counter

Castiel rolled his eyes. He crossed his arms and stared at the two men. “I found him near a cliff, you two. He drank himself to alcohol poisoning that I had to clear up. He had a broken bottle nearby. So, was he really just in need of some time alone?” Castiel asked, surprising Dean with the defense. Dean looked up straight away, blinking a few times. 

Spencer’s eyes roll and his arms cross firmly. Sam doesn’t react the same. Sam immediately dropped the bags he was carrying, looking at Dean guiltily and regretfully. Dean sighed and stood up, putting the now empty plate on the coffee table. Dean walked over to the men, refusing to stay seated and not partake in a conversation about himself. 

“So? Why couldn’t you take him back to his motel room? And NOT dirty up our couch?” Spencer asks, pinching the bridge of his nose. Dean sighed, rolling his eyes as he too crossed his arms. Castiel looked at Dean and shook his head, speaking up himself. 

“Because that motel is known for break-ins. And besides, he’s my friend. I wasn’t going to risk him killing himself with one of his guns he carries or by some other means. You need to understand that I have more people in my life than just you. Why are you surprised I am concerned about one of my friends?” Castiel asks, staring almost literal daggers at Spencer. 

Sam again widens his eyes at Castiel’s words, furrowing his eyebrows and looking at Dean in surprise. Spencer rolls his eyes again at Castiel, clearly not in the mood to argue. Dean forced back a growl. This guy had to be patient with Cas, not be short with him. 

“Castiel, he’s your ex. Aren’t you even a little bit suspicious that he might try to get with you again? It’s clear he’s still not over you.” Spencer says in a husher voice. Castiel rolled his eyes again and Dean drew in a sharp breath. This asshole… 

“Hey, buddy, I’ve been trying to be nothing but nice to you. And sure, he’s my ex. But I’m at least guaranteed a friendship with my best friend. Even if I blew up at him.” Dean scolds, pointing a finger at Spencer. Castiel sighed at Dean, wishing he hadn’t spoken up. 

“Just because he is my ex does not mean that I cannot try to be there for him. You have exes. I have mine. You treat yours a specific way that is different from my own. However, he is still my friend. You will treat my friends with as much respect as you do me. Or this relationship will never work, Spencer.” Castiel warned, his eyes glaring at Spencer. 

Spencer sighed and looked away for a moment, rubbing his face with his palm. After the moment, he looks back at Castiel and nods. “Fine. I want you to be happy so… okay. He is helping us with the case anyway.” He says genuinely, pulling Castiel into a soft kiss. Dean immediately looks down as to not have to witness the kiss. He felt like such a kindergartener. 

Castiel smiled at Spencer happily, kissing him back lovingly. Sam hurried over and engulfed Dean in his arms. He squeezed him close, making Dean gasp a bit for air as he patted Sam’s back. “Sam-Sammy, geeze, I’m okay, alright?” He says, pushing Sam off of him. Dean felt himself slightly smirk, looking up at Sam from his smaller height. 

Sam sighed, his puppy eyes in full action as he looked at Dean. “Dean-!” He whisper-yelled, gripping Dean’s shoulders. “Please, please tell me Cas is lying. That you didn’t try to… to off yourself.” Sam asks, a tear running down his cheek as he searched his brother’s face for an answer

Dean sighed a bit, biting the inside of his cheek nervously. He didn't want to give out his feelings. He didn’t feel like giving gag gifts. “No Sammy... Sure the idea crossed my mind but, no I didn’t do anything.” Dean assures, slightly lying. Well he still broke the bottle, thought about it very seriously. He was only still alive right now, he considered, because Castiel still cared even after Dean had scorned him. 

Dean shook his head at the thought, waving Sam off “Don’t worry about it Sam. Now, uh… did you guys get any more evidence on this murder? The last guy was pretty fresh, so we might be able to get some info on him that we couldn’t get before.” Dean asks, trying to move on from the discussion. Sam still looked upset, but didn’t press the issue further. Dean was thankful for that. 

Castiel nodded, pulling away from Spencer and pulling out the lore book he had been reading. “We were able to find more information on their connection. Each of the victims had family ties. Thor had a sister, who was the first victim. His son was the second. But what is weird is that the third was a stray cousin. No immediate family ties.” Castiel suggests. Sam nods in consideration, pulling out a few of the documents he’d been able to find and collect. 

“The witness we were talking about with Thor? Well, the people who overheard the murder said that Thor was talking with someone who thought he was the Thor. You know, the Norse God of Thunder?” Sam says, reading over the witness report he’d been able to snag while they had been in the police station. Dean furrowed his eyebrows, staring at Sam as if he’d grown two heads

“What? That…That’s really weird. Guess we’re dealing with some Norse mythology monster with a revenge list.” He jokes, getting a stare from Spencer. Dean turns his head and looks at Spencer, wanting to test him, annoy him maybe. 

“What Spencer? What evidence did you find?” He asks, a smirk on his face. Spencer’s gaze turns towards him, sneering at him. Yeah asshole. You’re a liar too. Your reliability for Cas is running low, buddy. 

Spencer blew out a puff of air as he got annoyed. Castiel reaches over and squeezes his hand. “It’s alright, Spencer. Getting us into the Forensic’s office is enough help.” He promises, hugging Spencer’s body close. Dean rolled his eyes at the view. He looked away, trying to continue to shove his incoming tears down. 

Sam sighed and put a hand on Dean’s shoulder. Dean looked at Sam, sighing as he turned his face towards the ground. Dean felt his chest aching, and he immediately knew he needed to get away from the ‘happy’ couple. He stood up and sighed, putting his shaking hands into his pockets. “Hey, uh, can I just go use the restroom? I’ll only be a sec.” He promises. 

Castiel moved back and looked up at Dean. “Oh, uh, of course Dean. It’s right down the hall, under the stairs.” He answers, his reassuring smile for Spencer falling as he looks at Dean. Dean swallows his disdain for how Castiel’s smile faltered and nods, walking away from them. He feels a glare in his back as he walks away, knowing it was Spencer. But if Dean was to be completely honest, he didn’t fucking care. Spencer could shove his cologne and ‘theories’ about blood types up his ass. 

As Dean walked towards the stairwell, he began to smell something he could only describe as awful. Horrendous, even. He groaned and pinched his nose, beginning to breathe through his nose. What could be making that terrible smell? Was Sam hoarding his rabbit food upstairs? 

Dean’s hand reaches for the bathroom door, before he changes his mind, remembering Spencer’s red glare he’d given him the day before. Spencer may be the monster they’re fighting. Or maybe he was just something else. But Sam wouldn’t believe him without evidence. Especially Cas. So what if he could find something now? Snoop around upstairs. If he got caught, he could say he thought Sam had something of his, so he went to check. It wasn’t a perfect plan, but Dean felt a part of him wouldn’t let him leave now that he suspected Spencer of not being human. He needed to make sure that, whatever he was, he wouldn’t hurt Castiel. Dean owed the angel that much. 

So instead, he let go of the bathroom handle and he circled the stairwell, gripping the white painted railing as he began to climb the stairs. Each stair began to creak as he took each step, making his breath hitch as he climbed higher and higher. Sure, he had an alibi he was gonna use if he got caught, but how suspicious is it that he didn’t just use the bathroom?

Dean shoved the thoughts away and just kept climbing. The smell grew worse with each step he took. How could Castiel not smell this every time he came up here? Right, he’s an angel. Duh. 

Dean finally reached the top and took a quick breath through his mouth to avoid the smell, but instantly regretted it, as his taste buds somehow picked it up. He held in a coughing fit he knew was building up in his chest. He hurriedly searched through a few of the doors, finding an office, the bathroom, the guest bedroom Sam was staying in, until one was left. He cautiously walked towards the last door farthest down the upstairs hallway. As he walked, holding back the cough was becoming harder than it was before. So with no more control, he coughed and heaved air in, groaning at the smell entering both his mouth and nose. 

Dean covered his mouth with his hand and he entered the room, finding the smell was the worst here. If Dean had to describe the smell, he’d say it smelled like when they discovered someone was a revenant. A zombie. It smelled like rotting flesh. Dean groaned, pressing his hand over his nose now as well to keep the smell from entering his nostrils. 

Dean hadn’t even gotten through to look around when he felt a hand lay itself on his shoulder, a very, very cold one. He jumped and reached into his jacket to grab his hunting knife. Sam had bulky and large hands, this hand was slim. And Castiel’s always had a buzz to it. It was his grace. But this hand was cold. And considering his previous recollection of revenants, he was on edge. 

When he turned around, his eyes met dead green again. He sighed, still not off the edge as he saw Spencer. “Hey... uh just seeing which room is Sam’s. Think I might’ve left something with him. So forgetful.” He immediately lies, rubbing his neck and putting on the fakest smile that he’s ever seen. 

Spencer smiles back, and it’s obvious he wants to claw Dean’s face off. He takes his hand away and nods his head in understanding. “Well, this is Castiel and I’s bedroom.” Spencer clarifies, enunciating the I very sarcastically. Dean nods and plays along. 

“Ah, my bad. So I’m guessing the other bedroom is the one Sam’s using.” Dean says, nodding towards the bedroom in question. As he starts to walk towards the bedroom, Dean hears commotion from downstairs. He looks to Spencer to clarify that he heard it too. When Spencer nodded, Dean immediately rushed down the stairs, swirling around the railing and racing to the source. 

Dean’s thoughts raced in his head. What if the monster had attacked Sam? Or Cas? He knew Sam and himself had O negative, if that theory was even true, but he didn’t know Jimmy’s blood type. So Castiel could be a victim. And Dean was not about to lose him again due to his own faults. He wasn’t going to lose him. Not today. 

Dean runs into the living room and stops dead in his tracks as he sees Castiel holding onto his phone as he helped Sam put together some of the evidence. “What the hell? What happened?” He asks, gesturing to the two’s gathered documents. 

Sam sighed and looked at Castiel, hoping he’d answer for him. Castiel rolled his eyes and moved the phone away from his ear to answer Dean’s question. “There’s been another murder. At the motel you were staying at.” Castiel clarifies. 

Shock runs through Dean like a run-away train. What? Was this monster trying to literally hunt him? Dean shook his head in disbelief in Castiel’s statement. “What? When?” He asks, hurrying over and helping Sam pick up the documents. 

Sam sighed and nodded at Dean, thanking him for his help. “Last night apparently. Soon after you got back there and left again. Around 2 in the morning.” He reveals. Well fuck, Dean thinks to himself, shoving the remaining papers into Sam’s arms. 

“Then what are we all standing around for? Let’s go. Before this asshole finds another victim.” Dean commands, beginning to make his way towards the front door again. Dean was sure he wasn’t thinking. He was in his hunter’s mindset. So when Spencer cleared his throat, he couldn’t control the involuntary growl that left his throat. 

Eyes stared at him for a few moments, Especially Castiel’s. Then Spencer spoke up, “Shouldn’t we have a plan first? Like some plan in case this guy comes back? I’m not putting Castiel in danger.” Spencer says, glaring at Dean like he was trying to prove a point. Dean bites the inside of his cheek once more, fighting the urge to retort back an insult, mainly revolving around the guy’s cologne usage. 

“Spencer, you of all people know that I am an angel. Not many things can harm me. Plans are good, yes, that was a valid point, but when there are people on the crime scene, it is harder to actually gather evidence. With the presence of other people, I doubt our monster will strike in the same place twice.” Castiel assures his boyfriend, who rolls his eyes and looks away. 

“Well fine. But if you get hurt I’m blaming them.” Spencer growled, pointing a finger at Dean. Dean rolled his eyes and turned towards Spencer. 

“Yeah, Love ya too Spence’.” Dean grumbled, walking out the front door and walking down to see where Castiel had gotten his Impala parked. 

⬼⬼⬼

Upon arriving at the crime scene Dean pulled out his fake FBI badge and slid it into his jacket pocket. He climbed out of the Impala, sighing as he yet again began to approach Castiel, Sam, and Devil 2.0. He slid his gun into the back of his pants, slowing his stride as he approached the three. 

Spencer gave Dean a glare for a moment, and when Dean began to open his mouth he spoke up, effectively interrupting the elder Winchester. “Dean, are you sure we should have you on this one? You were staying here, and with your recent assault, not many are going to want to believe that fake badge of yours.” Spencer sneers, making Dean huff and tense his right hand into a fist. 

No, you asshole, that’s what he wants. He wants to get you mad, make you hit him. Calm the fuck down. 

Dean takes a deep, and long breath before he untenses his fist and looks back at Spencer, who looks a bit puzzled at his actions. “Well, Spence’, when you’ve been in this business for as long as I have, you learn to improvise.” He insists, smirking at him as he smooths some of his hair out and starts making his way towards the crime scene and leaving a semi-pissed off Spencer and an amused Sam. And of course, a head-tilting Castiel, who didn’t understand. 

Dean walked up onto the line of motel rooms, making his way towards the one doorway surrounded by police tape, when he sees his motel keys he’d left on the rug the previous night had been moved, and were beside the rug instead. He, very confused, picks them up and looks up, seeing his motel room door slightly ajar. Dean presses against the wood of the door, and peeks inside his room. When he does, he sees smashed bottles, flipped over furniture, and a torn apart bed. Dean blinks a few times as he stares into the room. Someone had tried to look for something in his room. Someone who had probably been there not too long before. 

Dean, very confused and slightly nervous by his discovery, slowly closed the door and then turned towards the crime scene. When he walked in, he immediately winced. The victim was a young woman, looked to be about in her mid thirties. Features were very prominent, looking to be norse in origin. Much like how Spencer looked. Dean took that particular observation and kept it in the back of his mind, just in case. 

An officer stepped over, raising an eyebrow at Dean. “Sir? Why are you here? We saw you at the police station yesterday in the jail cell. This is a crime scene.” The officer says. Dean nodded, pulling out his badge. 

“I know that sir. I’m agent Smith. We actually came here undercover for these specific murders. When your officer tried to question me I had to unfortunately get him to walk away, as our information is confidential.” Dean explains, in a lie he hoped wouldn’t be immediately thrown out by this very nosy officer. 

Thankfully, it wasn’t. 

“Oh good, we could use some federal help with this weird case.” The officer says, guiding Dean towards the body. Sam, Cas, and Spencer enter soon after. The officer gives Dean a weird look. Dean raised a reassuring hand. 

“Don’t worry, these are my back-up. There, in the tan trenchcoat is my partner, agent Beyonce. And the other two are trainees. Their first big case.” He insists, a smile on his face as he fake introduced the three. Spencer, to say the least, was not happy that Dean referred to Castiel as his ‘partner’ in any sense of the word, and you could physically see his jaw clench. This little action caused Dean to smirk. Any act of rebellion was worth it. 

The officer nods. “Well, alright-y then. This is one hell of a case for you to bring trainees along. Come look at this. Everything else that’s been weird with the other murders? All the same. Except this time there’s something else. We don’t have our decoder, so this’ll take a bit to read.” The officer says, nodding to the forensics workers to lift the sheet they had just laid on the woman. 

With careful precision, they did so, turning the woman over and revealing a message written in scandinavian runes. Each cut was deep, seemingly done recently. Dean looked over at the officer and gestured towards the woman with his phone. The officer nodded, and Dean began to take pictures of the message. 

“Thank you again. We shall call you or your partner if we receive any news of any more murders.” The officer assures, before he walks off, leaving Dean to turn around and begin to discuss the new evidence with his ‘partners’. 

“What is with this language? Are we dealing with, I dunno, Loki’s scorned younger brother or some shit?” Dean asks, shrugging his shoulders as he hands Sam the phone with the photo lit up on the screen. As he looks at Castiel, Dean notices Spencer glaring at him for his comment. Great, so this guy still believed in the norse gods? Was he really offended by Dean’s comment? Seriously? 

Castiel shrugged, taking the phone from Sam. “Unfortunately, I cannot read this. It’s too old. I don’t remember this period of human time.” Castiel says, studying the photo. Sam shrugged, also confused with the language. 

“This is weird, it’s so bloody but it’s still clean cuts. Like this guy is a natural at writing like this.” Sam says, making sure the phone got given back to Dean. Dean takes the phone back, looking back at the woman for a moment. 

“I mean, she looks Nordic. By her hair and face? Just like the other victims. It was in their genealogy that they were mostly Norse in origin. But what confuses me is why she isn’t related to the other victims.” Dean questions, looking down at his phone and gesturing at the picture. 

Spencer scoffs. “You really think their heritage has anything to do with it? I thought you were an experienced hunter? What would heritage really have to do with it? More than blood type? When comparing the two, blood type would be more important to know.” Spencer criticizes. Dean widened his eyes and looked up at Spencer. This man was getting on his last nerve. Dean refrained from saying anything, just as he heard Castiel huff and grab Spencer’s shoulder. 

“Outside. Now. All three of you.” Castiel grunted, his eyes flashing blue for a moment. Dean gulped. The expression Castiel gave them was one he truly feared. Castiel was pissed. And Dean didn’t want to be on the receiving end of it. Ever. 

Though he was scared, Dean filed out of the motel room and stopped where Castiel stopped. Then the angel turned around and glared at Spencer. “What is your problem? Must you insult Dean every chance that you get? I asked you specifically to. Let. It. Go. But you have proven that you haven’t. That you have lied to me. Genealogy is something considered as a last resort, as well as blood type yes, but it by no means is a worthless piece of evidence. Now with this evidence, plus yours, I know that Dean needs to stay with us.” Castiel insists, making Dean’s pupils dilate with surprise. 

Spencer isn’t far off from where Dean is in terms of reaction. He blinks a few times, his eyebrows angrily furrowed. “What?! He can’t stay! We have no room!” Spencer tries, gesturing towards him. “Besides, he didn’t want to stay when you first invited him. The only reason he even stayed last night is because you dragged him back here instead of putting him back in his motel room.” Spencer points out angrily. Castiel rolled his eyes, stepping closer to Spencer. 

“Because he is my friend, Spencer! Am I not allowed to have them? And yes, I could have left him in his motel room. But was I going to risk him getting worse? No. And you talk about room? We have a couch that he used last night. He can use that. I am not arguing this with you any longer. It is my house. My decision is final.” Castiel growled. 

Dean widened his eyes, his mouth agape as he listened to Castiel’s rant. He’s never had someone defend him like that. It made his heart flutter for a moment before it fell again, remembering that Castiel was not breaking up with Spencer. Just fighting with him. 

Spencer blew hot air out of his nose and he crossed his arms. “Fine. But ask him first. You don’t want to force the man.” Spencer suggests, smirking as Castiel turned to question Dean. Spencer glared at Dean, daring him to even think of saying yes. 

Dean was done. After two times that he’d buckled under Spencer’s glare and his stare, he wasn’t going to let it affect him. Castiel looked at Dean, sighing and giving him the most pleading look he could muster, making Dean’s heart melt in the process. 

“Dean, would you please stay at my place, for your safety?” Castiel asks, his head tilted and his eyes similar to Sam’s puppy dog ones. Dean knew he couldn’t resist. So he looked up, glared into Spencer’s for a triumphant moment, and smirked. “Yeah, Cas, I think I should probably do that. I don’t really have the money to stay anywhere else. And besides, I gotta go get these translated. That costs money, right?” He teases, chuckling as he turned his gaze from Spencer’s angry and threatening one down to Castiel’s smiling and happy one. 

Sam raised an eyebrow. “You? You’re gonna translate those? How?” He asks, crossing his arms. Apparently he’d been staring at Dean and Castiel the whole time, because he did not show a single reaction as if he’d seen Spencer’s bitchface. 

Dean shrugged. “Why not? You guys should go get lunch, I’ll go get this translated. Then we’ll head back to Cas’s place and decipher what the message means. It’ll be as easy as pie, I’m sure.” Dean says, winking at Sam, and earning a groan in surprise. Dean smiled, and strangely it felt semi-natural. Like he hadn’t had to force it for once. 

Castiel put his hand on Dean’s shoulder and smiled. “That sounds perfect Dean. Just be sure to read between the lines. Some languages are harder to read when they have symbols to represent words.” He instructs, removing his hand just as quick. 

Dean immediately misses Castiel’s hand’s presence on his shoulder, giving him a sinking feeling. But he didn’t let it show, and he maintained his smile. “Of course Cas. Make sure you pick me up a burger. Extra cheese.” He teases. Sam rolled his eyes and turned around, starting to head to the cars. Spencer hung behind though. He glared at Dean for a moment, his eyes flaring red once more before he turned around and followed behind Castiel. Dean narrowed his eyes and smirked. 

Dean 1, Cologne-guy 0.


	5. Chapter 5

Dean couldn’t fight the smirk on his face as he made his way towards the Impala. He was feeling victorious. And he felt he had the right to celebrate. He’s just pissed off Spencer, and he barely even did a thing. Though the downside was that he was literally going to be staying in the same flipping house as this monster. Dean didn’t say this was a smart idea. 

Dean climbed into the Impala and he started her up, enjoying the sudden blast of Metallica that came out of the speakers. He truly felt at home in his car. If Dean was to be honest? He’d rather stay in the Impala than to stay in Castiel’s house. But what was the harm? Castiel had already seen him cry in his sleep, so there was no use hiding that from him. There was going to be that Barbeque tomorrow, Spencer wouldn’t want a body or a murder to dampen the party where he gets to show off his angel. So Dean figured one night couldn’t hurt. Still didn’t mean Dean wasn’t a little uneasy about the whole thing. He was still 99.9% sure Spencer was the monster. Or at least a monster, maybe not the one on the case. 

Dean turned up Baby’s radio and rolled down his windows, pulling her into gear before starting to drive. As he drove, he spotted Spencer getting into his car. Though Dean didn’t roll his window down to do so, Dean flipped him off. Dean let out a happy laugh and he sped forward, singing along to the radio and trying his damndest to not think of Castiel, or the past. 

But, he was unsuccessful. Since he was alone, Dean had no one to pretend for but himself. So as soon as the first couple songs ended, Dean’s happy smile fell. He didn’t understand why he couldn’t stay happy. Of course he considered the PTSD of the job, the nightmares, his bouts of depression. But why couldn’t he just stay happy? Was it really that hard? Not even the idea of getting pie cheered him up. 

Dean sighed to himself, squeezing the steering wheel tightly. No one was around, what was holding him back from letting it all out? The guilt. That was what was holding him back. That if he cried now, he wouldn’t be able to stop. That when he got back to Castiel’s place the tears would be obvious and they’d suffocate him with attention he really didn't want. And he didn’t want them to help carry his burden. Especially if it was a burden he created in the first place.   
Dean blew a tired puff of air out of his nose as he pulled into the library parking lot. Dean drove past a few lines of parking spots, grumbling as he couldn’t find a spot until he spotted one opening up. Once he was parked he climbed out of the car, being sure to grab his phone. This was probably gonna take awhile. 

Dean circled around the perimeter of the building and walked into the library, immediately noticing the large group of students ‘studying’ around the YA section. He rolled his eyes, “Yeah, go enjoy your twilight while I’m trying to save you from something much scarier than a sparkly vampire.” He grumbled under his breath, getting a harsh ‘SHH!’ from a nearby librarian with the tip of the nose glasses and all. Dean rolled his eyes and made his way up the stairs, spotting the section that said in big, bold letters ‘History and Myths’. 

Dean looked through the books, trying to see if there were any norse mythological creature books. His finger scanned over the titles as he squinted his eyes trying to read them. He didn’t know how anybody could find what they were looking for with the titles so small. After a good few moments he picked out a few books about Norse mythology and it’s fair share of creatures and monsters. 

Dean carried the books over to a group of desks and sat down to work. He first opened the different languages books he’d picked up, and pulled up the picture of the message. “Damn, could the guy have at least wiped away the excess? It’s a little hard to tell what the hell he’s trying to tell us.” Dean grumbled, flipping through page after page as he struggled to find some sort of guide to the rune type of writing. 

A hand landed on Dean’s shoulder and he immediately turned around, grabbing the hand tightly. When Dean looked around however, his chest began to lighten. And his heart fluttered. The man who put his hand on Dean’s shoulder chuckled deeply, and flashed his bright and striking blue eyes at Dean. Damn this man was gorgeous, Dean noted. The man had pitch black hair, and his cheekbones were nestled high on his face. His eyes definitely suggested asian descent. And the suit he wore suggested a businessman. Dean was hooked just by his face. 

Before Castiel, Dean hadn’t been out as a bisexual. He’d been a strict women only kind of man for a long time. Though occasionally, when he didn’t plan on going on another hunt for a few days, he’d try a guy just to see how it felt. But after he met Cas, those feelings spiked. And he could no longer just get by with the occasional one-nightstand with a guy. Or the occasional masturbation session. No, he was in the shower with the dial almost always turned to the cold side when Castiel was around. But now with everything that had happened, well Dean still found Castiel incredibly attractive. He found himself fantasizing in his wet dreams. As embarrassing as that is. 

So when this incredibly handsome man, who Dean will admit looked a ton like Castiel, he felt his jeans grow tight for the first time in awhile. Dean gulped a bit, but didn’t loosen his grip. The man then began to speak, and Dean soaked it in like a sponge. 

“Feisty, eh? I just couldn’t help but notice what you’re studying. I minored in ancient languages when I went to the ivies. I could help you translate that, whatever you’re trying to translate there on your phone.” The man offers, removing his hand from Dean’s shoulder and looking at him expectantly. Dean felt as if his stomach was going to burst out with butterflies. His voice was deeper than Dean had imagined. And Dean was at a loss for words. 

Finally after a moment, Dean sighed and pulled out the chair next to him. “Go ahead. I’m not having much luck on my own end with these books.” Dean grumbled thumping his phone down in front of the guy. Dean was trying desperately to hide his now evident problem from this guy he just met. Dean seriously felt like a teenager again. Like he did when he first met Cas and he couldn’t control his mini-me for the life of him. 

The man smiled at Dean and nodded, taking a seat beside him. Dean looked down at the book he was staring at, glancing over at this almost god of a man occasionally when he thought he wasn’t looking. Dean couldn’t understand why his heart was racing. Why he was feeling this way while he’d been all over Castiel for so long. In his heart, Dean knew it was because the guy looked like Castiel.

“The name is Mark, by the way. I own Morgan Corporations.” Mark introduces in an almost seductive tone, like he was trying to see how Dean would react to it. React to it Dean did. In his head though. In his head, he was panicking and wondering how the hell he could be attracted to this guy, Especially when he wasn’t ready to be in a relationship again, etc. 

Dean blew out a hard sigh through his nose and blinked as if he was annoyed. He looked over at Mark, his hand against his chin. “Dean. Not gonna give you my last name. Kinda creepy you gave it that quick.” Dean says, briefly looking over at Mark to give him a wary eye. Mark smirked as he looked over at Dean, his eyes squeezing shut as he laughed. 

“I apologize, I’m so used to giving it out when meeting clients. They don’t think I’m a CEO right away. Though many people consider that to be bullshit.” Mark says, making Dean raise an eyebrow at Mark’s laid back words. He wasn't what Dean expected a CEO to be. Dean usually considered CEOs evil. Mainly cause the only one he’d ever met had turned out to be a leviathan in disguise. 

Dean sat back in his seat and chuckled to himself. “Well I guess they would when you walk around in a suit but talk like you’re twenty something.” Dean comments. Mark laughed again, making Dean’s chest tighten as he held his breath. 

“I guess you’re right, Dean. Now let’s translate this writing, shall we?” Mark says, pulling Dean’s phone closer to him and starts to analyze the writing and the symbols. Dean watched Mark from afar, expecting him to be freaked out that it was literally carved into the back of a middle aged woman. But Mark didn’t flinch as he ran a finger against the glass to trace the markings. 

Dean gulped for a moment, leaning over to see Mark talking to himself, as if he was trying to remember what each pattern of runes meant. “So? What’s it say?” Dean asks, finding himself unable to back up when he knew he should’ve. Mark’s previous smirk fades and he looks up at Dean with a worried look. 

“If you know who wrote this, and who they wrote it for? You should really keep them in safety. Cause this guy basically wrote ‘Stay away, if you value your life.’ In ancient Scandinavian runes. Norse writing.” Mark says, pushing the phone back over to Dean. Then Mark began to translate the message on a piece of tissue that was left there at the desk. He handed it to Dean and gave him a look of sympathy. “Good luck with the case, Dean. You’re going to need it.” He says, winking at Dean as his hand glides across the back of Dean’s chair. As Mark’s hand glides close to Dean’s shoulder, it brushes against his shoulders, and Dean is reminded that he wasn’t Castiel. But his hand was… warm. Firm also, he remembered from when he had grabbed Dean’s shoulder. 

Dean didn’t know how to feel. He knew he was in danger. Dean had an itching feeling the monster was Spencer. Why else would the monster write ‘Stay away, if you value your life’? It was just all clicking. The smell and the cologne, Spencer’s eyes, Spencer’s behavior against all of the evidence that he was collecting that didn’t actually mean anything, it all was connected. Spencer was some kind of creature. Dean knew it. But what he was, Dean didn’t know. He hadn’t heard of any type of monster that would leave a human bite mark instead of ripping out their throats like vamps. Or of any monster other than revenants that left an undead smell. Dean was going to have to do more of his own research, that he knew. He couldn’t let Spencer know. If he did? Well, then he was sure Mark’s warning would come true. Even then, what if it was all just coincidence? And Spencer wasn’t the monster? And Dean was just jealous? Dean doubted the lesser. 

⬼⬼⬼

Ace of Spades blasted itself from Dean’s speakers before he stepped out of the Impala. He hummed along to the song for a few moments after he had turned off the radio. He tossed his keys up into the air casually before catching them, humming a little louder as he made his way towards the copper red door to Castiel’s house. He made his way up the cobblestone walkway, Spencer’s message on the body haunting and echoing in his mind. He had almost no doubt that it was Spencer. He just had to find enough proof to get Castiel the fuck away from this guy. 

Dean whistled a bit as he opened the front door, heaving the couple heavy books he’d borrowed from the library inside and into the living room. Dean huffed as he dropped the books onto the coffee table, earning an expected thud at how heavy they were. Huge Norse mythology textbooks. Great. Better to get into it now than later. And better to find out now if somehow Loki can make himself come back to life and Dean and Sam have to break the news about Gabriel being off somewhere and completely inaccessible to the demi-god. 

Just as Dean was about to settle back into the couch, a less heavy book called the ‘Codex Regius’, he began to hear certain… noises. At first, Dean thought he could deal with a few ‘ahh’s and ‘oh's, you know, the usual stuff. But then he began to hear cursing, and moaning, and the banging of a headboard. Dean opened the smaller book and tried to look through the stories to find any sort of answers. But the noises just continued. 

Then started the louder moaning, the distant calling of a name, and soon he could recognize the voice was Spencer. And Dean’s heart dropped. Cas was having sex with Spencer. Dean couldn’t say he was surprised. Cas and Dean had only been together for two weeks before Castiel wanted to try sex. Since he wanted to pleasure Dean as much as possible. The thought of the memory now made Dean’s heart ache. And made his stomach feel like it was being filled with heavier and heavier rocks. 

Dean could again remember a time when he’d smirk and begin to whistle when he heard those noises coming from another room. Especially when he and Sam would get separate motel rooms and he could hear Sam’s bed frame banging against the wall. But now, all it did was increase his want to shrivel up, his memory of his mistake, and amplify his regret that he ruined everything between him and Castiel. 

Dean thought about running again. He thought about going against his promise to Castiel and just running away from all of it. Leaving all of his evidence for Sam and Castiel to shift through and running back home to drink again. But he couldn’t. He didn’t want to risk Spencer actually being the monster and putting Castiel at risk. Though Dean was still certain that Castiel would be able to deal with him, as he’s an angel, but Dean knew that he had to stay. He made a promise to Castiel. He wasn’t going to break this one. 

So instead of running as he grabbed the books and piled them up one by one, he headed outside. Dean lifted the books higher into his arms and he held them against his chest, walking to the screen door that led outside. He heaved the door open, carrying the books out as he found a chair under the largest tree in the yard. Dean let out a grunt as he dropped the books onto the nearby table. 

Dean leaned against the back of the chair, sighing through his nose as he propped the book open in his lap. He looked down at the words, and started to read, trying to focus on the sentences and the stories formed by them. But his thoughts were running rampant. Dean just couldn’t get the image of Castiel… and Spencer having sex out of his head. And it hurt damn good. 

Dean shook his head. He wasn’t going to keep thinking like this. He needed to focus. If he wanted to get Castiel away from Spencer, or at least know that he is safe from this monster, Dean had to bottle this up. Force it down and focus on the task at hand. Like John always said, shoot first and ask questions later. This was a tad different, but Dean saw it in the same light. 

So Dean did so. Dean fought through his thoughts and continued to go through the reading and the research, wondering how Sam could do this for a hobby. It was boring. Dean had the occasional slip up where he’d catch himself in the middle of tearing up, but his expression quickly hardened. 

Twenty or so minutes later Castiel wandered through to the backyard, looking around like he was searching for someone. He smiled as he spotted Dean, carrying a carry-out box over to Dean and setting it down next to him but not on top of the books. “Hello Dean. How was your translation process?” Castiel asks, taking a seat next to Dean. Dean felt his heart lurch in his chest, making him almost start crying again. He took in a deep breath and looked over his notes, shrugging.

“Well hey Cas, finally come to see me?” He asks, still looking down at his book and unable to see Castiel’s confused face. “It was alright. I got it done pretty quickly. So I was able to pick up some books on the culture that the writing comes from. It’s nordic. So the victims being nordic makes sense.” Dean explains, never looking Castiel in the eyes just in case Castiel could see the regret and the sadness in them. 

From where Dean had casted his eyes, he could see Castiel was still dressed in his messy trench coat from earlier. He didn’t look like he’d just got done having kinky sex with Spencer. But Dean shrugged it off. Castiel could blink and his clothes would be off. Not that Dean had experience with that… 

Castiel tilted his head in confusion. “Dean? Are you alright? You aren’t looking at me…” Castiel asks, moving his head more to see Dean’s face. Right as he was going to ask again, Sam wandered out, smiling and walking towards the both of them.

“So I guess we’re all eating out here? Alright. Oh, and also Spencer said that he’ll eat his food later, Cas.” Sam says, leaning against the tree Dean was sitting under. Dean shakes his head, grumbling as he closed the book in his hands, putting it down on the side table that was next to him. He grabbed his food and paused for a second. 

“Hey Sam, have you noticed any… odors since you’ve been here?” Dean asks, looking over at his brother in interest. Sam looks taken aback, smirking in confusion. 

“Uh… not really no. It’s just Spencer’s cologne most of the time. You get used to it.” Sam says, shrugging his shoulders. Sam looked around the yard, embracing the wind as it blew in his direction. That’s when his eyes landed on Dean’s books. He grinned like a kid on christmas. “Wait, Dean you’re actually doing your research? Ha, I used to have to bribe you with pie. Now you’re doing it willingly?” Sam exclaimed, walking over and analyzing the books Dean had picked up. 

Dean grumbled, growling a bit as he tried and failed to get the book back from Sam. Dean rolled his eyes and stood up, grabbing the book from Sam’s grip. “Yeah, I am. Cause that freaking message freaked me out, alright?” Dean admitted, closing the book again. 

At the mention of the message, Castiel and Sam straightened out. Castiel sighed and looked up at Dean. “What did it say, Dean?” He asks, sitting away from the back of the chair. Dean laid the book down and sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

“It said something like ‘Stay away, if you value your life’. I know, it sounds--cheesy! But it creeped me out to translate that letter by letter.” Dean gruffly complained, picking up the burger from the take out container and biting into it. 

Sam gulped and put his hands on his hips. “Well… we gotta figure out who this monster is. Then we can figure out who exactly this message is for. Protect them. Cause it’s obvious they’re on this monster’s kill list.” Sam says, his eyebrows tilting up in worry. Castiel sighed and stood up, standing near Dean. 

“Well we have a start on who their typical victim is. They’re usually of norse origin, type-o blood, and apparently they all had an ego. Or at the very least were very hot headed, didn’t take being controlled very well.” Castiel assures, making Dean raise an eyebrow at the angel. Castiel looked between him and the sides of the house, annoyed. “Yes we had witnesses at this last one say that the woman was very… stubborn to say the least.” Castiel reiterates. Dean nods in understanding at the clarification. 

“Well yeah. We do. But then again, we know little to nothing about what the hell this monster even is, let alone what’s gonna kill it. We should work on that, at the very least.” Dean says in his own exasperated way. He grunts through the words, obviously putting on his angrier hunter mask. 

Sam nods, looking towards Dean and Castiel, gesturing with his hands as he makes his list. “Well, maybe make sure we pack a little of everything? Tomorrow is the barbeque. The thing could strike. Make sure we use silver utensils, put salt in the food, all the normal things. That way we can tell if this thing is weakened by anything.” 

Dean shrugs and nods. “I guess that could work. But we don’t know if this mother’ll be immune to touching silver, but only be hurt by being cut. Or if their weakness is something else entirely.” Dean reminds, harshly gesturing with his hands with furrowed eyebrows. His normal approach to almost anything. Dean sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose again. “Sam, have you found anything you think this even is? I mean, it can’t be a vamp, they don’t have that kind of strength.” Dean lists off. 

Sam shrugs again, sighing as he pulls out his phone. “Nope. I’ve contacted almost every hunter we know. Each one of them thinks it’s something different. But the most common answer I’ve gotten is a revenant.” Sam says. Dean widened his eyes for a moment. That would explain the smell… But then how did Sam not smell it? Spencer had been gone awhile, maybe he did it every time he went upstairs? 

Dean shook his head, his hands reaching up to his head as the thoughts began to overwhelm him again. Feelings of worthlessness, and fear, and guilt were all piling up again, and Dean could feel the singular tear that squeezed out of the corner of his eye. 

Castiel frowned and put his hand on Dean’s shoulder, stepping closer to him and looking him in the eye. Dean felt his breath hitch again as he felt Castiel’s buzzing hand on his shoulder. Every part of him wanted to curl up on the concrete and just let Hell swallow up and take him already. “Dean? Are you sure you’re alright?” Castiel started, making Dean’s breath hitch, thinking Castiel was going to interrogate him again. “It is getting quite late, perhaps you should head to sleep.” Castiel suggested, making Dean widen his eyes at the out Castiel gave him. Dean couldn’t smile, but he cleared his throat and nodded anyway. 

“Yeah… Yeah I should… probably sleep.” He chuckled, running a hand through his hair. He then turned around and nodded at Sam and then gestured towards the books. “If you wanna read those go ahead Sam. It’s better we have more options.” Dean says, before he went inside to turn in for the night. 

⬼⬼⬼

Dean opened his eyes again to the worst memory he had. It haunted Dean’s every move, his every thought, even his decisions. Dean hated looking back on it. It was the moment all of this began. Where all of his regret feeds; Exactly 5 days and 6 months ago. 

Dean could remember it like it was yesterday. He, Sam, and Cas had all returned from a particularly tough hunt, and Dean had gotten the worst injuries of the party. A broken rib, sprained ankle, broken arm, and some ripped tendons here and there. He was barely even walking. He wasn’t supposed to be walking at all, according to ‘Doctor Castiel’. 

Dean had gotten hurt more as he had thrown himself into the hunt. No game plan, no research, just ran into it not knowing what or who the monster was. Of course, this was stupid on his part, but if Dean had been honest, and with how careless he’d been, it should have been obvious that Dean wanted to die. He wanted some monster to finally gank him for real, be given a hunter's funeral, and then go on to hell. He knew that was where he was going anyway. No use denying the inevitable. 

So when they came tumbling into the bunker, Dean knew he was in for another lecture by Castiel as the angel healed him. 

“Don’t worry, Cas. We dealt with the demon. He’s dead, I’ll live, winning hands on both sides.” Dean says in a grunt, heaving himself onto the map table and almost crying out from the irritation of his broken rib. Castiel rolled his eyes and extended his hand, beginning to heal the elder Winchester. Castiel’s face had been firm, disappointed, and most of all heartbroken that Dean had let himself get hurt this much. 

“Yes, but at your dispense. Dean, this needs to stop. You aren’t something that’s disposable. You matter, Dean. We need you, Dean-” Castiel starts, having finished with Dean’s tendons and was working on Dean’s rib. That’s when Dean rolled his eyes and scooted away from Castiel, his healing only half finished. 

“No, you damn well don’t! You know it, Cas! All I ever do for you, or Sam, is get into problems that we all have to fix! I’d rather not be the start of another damn apocalypse!” Dean growled, gesturing towards the angel. Castiel sighed and began to get closer to Dean again. Dean shook his head and pushed Castiel away, having his ankles healed enough for him to stand on them. 

“No, Cas, stop fucking healing me! I swear you’re like a mother hen! Suffocating me all the damn time! Why can’t you just let yourself regenerate without healing me? Huh? I ain’t six! I can heal on my own!” Dean growled, sneering at Castiel. Castiel had then responded with a sad look, and he had sighed as he began to try and argue his point. 

“Dean, you are worth my grace. These near end of the world experiences that you’ve stopped are proof of that Dean. These problems are started sometimes in part by you but we work together to fix them-” Castiel starts, caressing Dean’s cheek. Dean smacks Castiel’s hand away and looks away from him, squeezing his eyes shut. 

“JUST-! Just shut up!” He yelled, his eyes flaring with anger. “You know for damn certain none of that is true. These problems start over and over again because of my ignorance. You can’t fix me! God! All I ever hear out of your mouth is pity for me! Tell me the damn truth!” Dean yells at Castiel, his body leaning towards the stiffened angel. 

Castiel looks around, confused as to what to do. “Have you listened to a single word that I have said, Dean? I don’t pity you, I want to help you. This, running into danger is not safe. Nor is it healthy. I’m trying to help you Dean but I can’t if you keep pushing me away.” Castiel tried to reason. Dean clenched his fist and he narrowed his eyes. 

Present Dean could only watch over in horror as he waited to hear the words that started all of his problems. He felt like he was suffocating in his tears, drowning even. 

“Leave, Cas.” Dean growled. Sam and Castiel’s eyes widened and immediately refocused on Dean in surprise, hoping he didn’t just say what he did. 

Castiel took a step closer to Dean, his hand reaching out to him. “Dean, you don’t mean-” He starts in a calm voice. Dean swats Castiel’s hand away and he growled at him. 

‘Did you not hear me, Castiel?! Leave! Pack up whatever shit you have here and go! This thing between us? A Mistake. I knew they’d get me in trouble eventually. Just didn’t think it’d be with you.” Dean deadpans after he yells back into Castiel’s face, effectively crushing the angel’s metaphorical heart. 

⬼⬼⬼

Dean woke up to a voice echoing his name. Dean’s eyes burst open almost instantly, his vision blurry from the presence of his tears. Dean sat up on the couch, as he realized he was awake again. He looked around for a moment, his chest heaving from his sobbing. Then he began to see clearer, and he felt like the bible characters that had seen an angel, because as his eyes adjusted, all he could see was Castiel. 

Castiel was shaking Dean gently, his eyebrows tilted in worry as he kept calling his name. “Dean, Dean it’s okay, it’s not here. Whatever you’re dreaming of, it isn’t real, Dean.” Castiel assures, squeezing Dean’s shoulders. Dean sighed, swallowing hard. 

You may think that Cas, but it is real. As much as Dean wishes that it weren’t. 

Dean looked again at Castiel, before leaning into the angel’s arms, trying to soak up his care and just all of him at once. Dean figured it would be one of the last time’s he’d get to do so. Castiel hesitated as Dean leaned into his embrace, but a part of him didn’t fight it. He actually wanted it. So when Dean leaned into his arms, Dean soon after wrapped his arms around him, rubbing the Winchester’s back and holding him just as he used to when Dean would wake from nightmares and pray for Castiel to come to him and comfort him. Just as they used to do. 

Castiel found himself longing for what they had. Longing to hold Dean longer, to have more time to just hold him. To heal him of all of his wounds, search through all that was permitted of him and ease his worries, calm him with his grace and lull him back to sleep with an enochian lullaby. All as they used to do. And Castiel would watch over him, as he used to do. 

Castiel blinked a few times as he held Dean, finding tears running down his vessel’s cheeks. He never thought he’d be able to cry, but with everything that had occurred, Castiel found himself no longer lacking in most emotions. 

Castiel wanted this, he wished things were different. That Dean would let him in. Would stop pushing him away and let him help. Let him hold him and let him confide all of his worries to him. That was what a partner was. That’s what Castiel wanted to be for Dean. If he was to be honest, he wanted that more than he wanted anything to do with Spencer. Spencer had been an originally one time deal since he had reminded Castiel so much of Dean at first. But then it grew into something much larger. And Castiel didn’t know how to tell Spencer no. Much like how he used to be with Dean. Still partially is. 

Dean hiccuped as he just let Castiel hold him. After a few moments, Dean leaned back, immediately missing the buzz of Castiel’s skin. Dean wiped his eyes and blinked a few times to clear the tears. He knew they couldn’t have this. Not after what he did. They had to stay friends. But did friends do what they did? 

Dean looked into Castiel’s eyes again, finding the courage to do so after being in Castiel’s arms for the first time in a long time. He found kindness, care, worry, all mixed into the stormy ocean that was Castiel’s eyes. Dean could only wonder what was being displayed back in his own eyes. 

“S-sorry Cas… I didn’t mean to interrupt anything… Just these ol’ nightmares have a mind of their own…” Dean jokes, wiping his eyes and looking away again. The weight of Castiel slightly on his legs still sent part of Castiel’s buzzing touch through him, even if it was slight. 

Castiel frowned, looking down at Dean with worry all over his face. He moves a stray strand of Dean’s slightly longer hair away from his face. “They are as bad as before, aren’t they?” Castiel asks cautiously. Dean half chuckled. 

“Worse, actually. I wake up screaming sometimes. Good thing Sam is such a deep sleeper.” Dean says as he looks up at the wall, trying to find every excuse not to look into Castiel’s eyes. Because he didn’t want to risk seeing Castiel’s reaction if he ended up hurting the angel again. And he couldn’t bear to face what he’d done. 

Castiel’s frown deepened, and he sat closer to Dean, laying his hand on Dean’s shoulder. He used his other hand and turned Dean’s face towards him, turning Dean’s heart speed on full. Castiel’s hand dropped from Dean’s face, his lips pursing for a moment. “Dean, would you like me to stay here? Wait for you to fall asleep again?” Castiel asks instead of what he had planned to ask, which was if Dean wanted to talk about it. If Dean wanted to talk about it, Castiel knew he would’ve already, 

Dean looked up at Castiel slightly in surprise. He felt like a child, not being able to sleep without their parent’s presence. Dean felt guilty for even considering it. Castiel was with Spencer. But this opportunity? And Castiel was offering it to him? Dean couldn’t resist it. He missed him. 

Dean nods, and Castiel then shifts to where he’s sitting beside Dean, wrapping an arm around him and laying a hand on his left shoulder as he holds him. Castiel doesn’t seem fazed as he brings Dean closer to him, despite Dean’s surprised look as he does so. 

It doesn’t take long, but as soon as Dean starts to get comfortable in Castiel’s arms again, he feels the draw of grace in him. The slight push and pull of it through him starts to lull him back to sleep. He starts to fight it at first, wanting to enjoy this for as long as he can. But before he could even try to open his eyelids again to fight against the urge to sleep, he drifts off. The warmth of Castiel and his grace comforting him as he once again returns to his dreamscape. 

Dean doesn’t want to wake up.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Warning to my readers there is some smutty themes in this one! Don't worry, the real smut will come later, no pun intended. 
> 
> Just thought I'd warn you!

Dean dreaded waking up as he did, knowing Castiel wouldn’t be there. Dean wanted to sleep forever, let himself think that his last few waking moments were of Castiel holding him again. Like the things between them didn’t exist. But Dean knew that they did. His nightmare that he had was enough proof for him. So as he began to drift back into consciousness, the pit in his stomach grew heavier as he felt the lack of Castiel. 

Dean squeezed his eyes shut, dreading when he would fully open them. In the background Dean could hear shuffling, almost like people were moving around and rearranging things. Dean grumbled, figuring this was as good of a time as any to get up. He opened his eyes tiredly, and was met with Castiel who was fumbling with an armful of chairs that he was carrying outside. Dean jumped up and hurried to his side, taking the excess chairs from him. “Slow down there, Cas. What are you doing with all these chairs?” He asks in a chuckle, resisting the urge to kiss his head how he used to when he was relieved Castiel was okay. 

Castiel grumbled as Dean took the chairs from him, sighing heavily. “I’m getting the chairs set up for the barbeque, Dean.” Castiel says, heaving the chairs out through the screen door. “I had hoped you would have slept longer, Dean. From the looks of how restless you were last night I figured you would need it.” Castiel grunts, opening the chairs and setting them up in a circular fashion around the tables that Sam was outside fixing up. 

Dean rolled his eyes, following Castiel and doing as he did. “Cas you know me. I get my four hours then I’m good. Don’t need any more than that.” He says, unfolding the first chair and setting it up before moving onto the second. Castiel rolled his eyes, pulling out the phone Dean had given him long before the fall out. 

“Dean, you went to bed at 10 last night. It is now 10 in the morning. I believe you needed the sleep.” Castiel insists, sighing as he set up the last chair he had. “That should be enough, Spencer wanted to invite the whole neighborhood, though I am unsure how we are going to feed that many.” Castiel says, looking over at Dean with a puzzled look. 

Dean rolled his eyes away from Castiel as he mentioned Spencer. Of course he did, more people to show Castiel off to. Though that move is something Dean would have done as well, he wouldn’t deny that. “Maybe he just wants to be thorough, ‘monster could be anybody.” Dean says sarcastically, looking away from Castiel as he set up his last chair. 

Castiel tilts his head at Dean. “Are you sure you got enough sleep, Dean? You sound… grouchy.” Castiel says after a moment, resulting in a snort and a snicker from a further away Sam. Dean blew out a hot puff of hair through his nose and he turned around, shifting his expression into a less aggravated one. 

“Yes, Cas, I did. Now are we starting on this barbeque food? I know somebody’s gonna cook on the grill when the party actually starts. But is there anything else?” Dean asks. Castiel again tilts his head. 

“I thought a barbeque was just barbequed foods? Nothing else?” Castiel pondered, staying put as he analyzed Dean’s face. Dean looked away, not wanting to see the cuteness that Castiel had in his eyes when he was this confused. 

“No, Cas. Barbeques have vegetables too. Side dishes. Dessert even. Just--Let me help.” He says, pushing past Castiel and gesturing for him to follow him into the kitchen. Dean slides open the screen door, sighing as he makes his way into the kitchen. He opened Castiel’s fridge, looking for something that he could use. Castiel walked in soon after, looking around as Dean did. 

Dean bent down as he looked in the fridge just as Castiel was turning to go look at another cabinet. Castiel felt his vessel’s breath hitch quietly. His cheeks reddened and he cleared his throat. His vessel had a problem now. And Castiel knew why. Dean stood back up when he grabbed a bunch of dippable vegetables from the fridge. 

“Hm? Something wrong Cas?” Dean asks, lifting each of the vegetables and putting them in a circular dish and showing Cas each step. Castiel took a deep breath and blew it out softly. He leaned against the counter to avoid showing off his issue. 

“No Dean I am… quite fine.” Castiel lied, images running through his head of Dean shirtless, bent over and begging, pleading. Images of Dean being fucked under him and Dean taking all of it in stride--Castiel had to immediately shake his head. His problem was going to get worse if he kept thinking like that. 

Dean raised an eyebrow and shrugged, putting what dip that Castiel even had in the center of the vegetables. He continued to help Castiel prepare more sides for the barbeque, ignoring the thumb of nervousness that repeated in his chest. Dean had a feeling this barbeque was going to hurt. Having it at Castiel’s place made it worse. Dean couldn’t use the excuse that he needed to go back to get something and then just don’t return. But Dean kept telling himself he was doing this for Cas. That was all that mattered. 

⬼⬼⬼

Hours later the party was in full swing, with neighbors dancing, chatting and all around enjoying themselves. Dean was stuck at the grill, as he had volunteered to do so. He flipped burgers mindlessly, sighing as he looked around. There was no more proof or evidence that Dean could find to prove Spencer as the monster. The entire time he was just sitting next to Castiel and making him laugh. 

Dean felt his chest growing heavier and heavier as he was forced to watch them. He had nothing else to do. No one had come up to Dean as he cooked the entire time. Sam was busy talking with the neighbors about the recent murders and seeing if they knew anything. If they’ve seen anything. 

Castiel and Spencer had agreed that they’d keep an eye out for anything suspicious. So that left Dean to just cook. Not that it surprised him. Spencer had jumped the gun when Dean asked what his job was to say that all he had to focus on was cooking. Dean couldn’t help but notice the animosity in Spencer’s tone and his gaze as he had insisted though. What was his problem? Sure, Dean wasn’t over Castiel yet. But it wasn’t like he was actively trying to kiss him or break them up. Well, the last one was true if Spencer proved to be the monster. But if Castiel was happy, Dean knew he had to shove it down. 

Dean watched longingly across the yard, watching Spencer and Castiel laugh, while Spencer tried to coax Castiel into eating a strawberry. The neighbors around them laughed, but Dean could barely hear their conversations. He didn’t know what they were talking about, but he knew it had to be some of that fake suburban family crap. 

Castiel looked so happy. Content, even. And it was all without Dean. If only he could’ve held his tongue, not fought with Castiel when all he wanted to do was help him, then maybe that would be him sitting next to Cas, and not the man he’s replaced him with. Dean was jealous, he knew he was. In his head, Castiel was his. Well, used to be. Then he pushed him away. Because everyone that associates with him dies eventually. And his life is too complicated to give him anything remotely normal. 

Dean let out another long sigh, flipping a few of the burgers as a man walked up to the grill, sipping his red solo cup. “Hey, we got burgers and hot dogs, take your pick.” Dean says in a grumble, his eyes moving away from the depressing view of Castiel and Spencer and back down to the boring burgers and hot dogs. The man chuckles, making Dean’s chest tighten as he recognizes the voice. 

“Maybe I want you.” the voice flirts, and when Dean looks up he can see it’s definitely Mark. Mark smirks at Dean, raising an eyebrow as he sips his drink again. “I know that look. You’re jealous, huh?” Mark asks, grabbing a hamburger bun and beginning to form his plate. 

Dean was speechless for a few seconds. This guy was one of Cas’s neighbors? If Dean had known that he would have offered to be the run-guy and just take quick trips to and from the store, taking a half hour each time. Dean swallowed and chuckled, sighing a bit. “Yeah, u-uh, unfortunately. Cas is a… he’s my best friend.” Dean says longfully, flipping the last few burgers he had to grill. Mark raised an eyebrow, putting pickles and mustard on his burger bun. 

“So it’s like that, huh? Best friend and unrequited love?” Mark asks, closing up his burger and setting his plate up with some chips as his eyes watch Dean, waiting for his answer. 

“Try the barbeque chips. They go better with the burger.” Dean says as Mark fixes his plate. “And not exactly. It’s much more complicated than that.” Dean uttered in a flat and sad tone. He presses the spatula against one of the burgers as he hears Mark moan in delight. Dean blushes promptly, gulping and looking away from Mark. 

“Did you season these yourself?” Mark asks, his eyes a glow with adoration. Dean raised an eyebrow and chuckled to himself, pressing the spatula against another burger. Dean looked up into Mark’s blue eyes, his blush evident now. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. Mark was good looking. Dean was an out bisexual, Sam had made sure of that. Mark was nice too. Didn’t mean it had to lead to anything. Some flirtation and confidence couldn’t hurt… Right? 

Dean smirked. He flipped another burger and winked at Mark, a wide smile forming on his face. “So what if I did? Maybe I'm missing my best ingredient.” Dean flirts, chuckling at his attempt. He hadn’t flirted with anyone in almost eight months. He knew he was a little rusty. Mark didn’t seem to think so. 

“And what might that be? Could it be a little piece of me?” Mark flirts back, making Dean blush again. Dean rolled his eyes, this guy wasn’t all that great at flirting, but he was fun to talk to before. He could maybe look over it for a night. 

Dean chuckled. “Maybe a bit of garlic, pepper, and a side piece to keep me going.” Dean says back, taking the last burger and laying it on the plate he had the burgers on. Mark eyed Dean for a moment, smirking. 

“Damn, you’re really so handsome I forgot the rest of my material.” Mark flirts, chuckling again as he took another bite of his burger. Dean rolled his eyes and started making himself one. 

“Really? That’s the best you’ve got?” Dean asks, taking a bite of his own once he finished making it. Mark was good looking, and Dean needed a distraction for a little while. Especially when Castiel wasn’t making any attempts at slowing down the ‘happy’ couple facade. Mark chuckled. 

“No, not really, but you really are a looker. I bet you get all the guys. Or girls, no discrimination here.” Mark says, holding his free hand up as if he was going to get caught of a crime and he insisted he was innocent. 

Dean rolled his eyes, before speaking through his mouthful. “Well I’ll take it.” Dean says while laughing, chewing the rest of his food. He smiled at Mark, who smirked back at him with a flirtatious grin. “So, mister businessman, are you gonna be trouble for me? Am I gonna have to call my moose of a brother to chase you away?” Dean flirts after swallowing his food. Mark snickered and laughed, leaning his head back. 

“A moose? You mean the tall guy with the shaggy hair? Sure. Sick ‘em on me.” He chuckled. “Though I’m sure I can trouble in other ways.” Mark winks, sending butterflies into Dean’s stomach. Dean raised a flirtatious eyebrow, unaware of the angel walking up behind them. 

“Hello Dean. Who might you be?” Castiel asks, putting an arm around Dean and squeezing his hip where no one else but Mark could see. Dean could taste the annoyed tone in which Castiel used. It was almost like he was jealous. But that wasn’t possible. Castiel was with Spencer. He shouldn’t be jealous. Didn’t mean that Dean wasn’t supposed to be jealous either. 

Mark raised an eyebrow at Castiel, eyeing his hand on Dean. “I’m Mark, Dean and I met at the library yesterday. I helped him translate that message you are all working on for that case.” Mark clarifies, smirking at Dean. Dean knew that look. Mark was teasing him. He knew about how Dean had looked at Castiel. And what he’d been doing with Mark. Teasing was just unfair. 

Castiel furrowed his eyebrows, unconvinced. “I’m Castiel. I hope you enjoy the barbeque. Dean is an excellent cook.” Castiel compliments Dean, his grip never leaving Dean’s side. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to speak to Dean, please.” Castiel almost growls out. Mark smirked wider and shrugged. 

“Sure, talk soon Dean?” Mark asks, winking at Dean. Dean smirked back, raising an eyebrow and winking back at Mark. 

“Yeah, talk soon.” Dean says, his cheeks still red from the ordeal. He waved at Mark for a moment before Castiel turned him to face the angel. Dean raised a confused eyebrow, his stomach full of butterflies beginning to sink as he’s reminded again of what he lost. What he does to relationships. 

“Dean, what are you doing?” Castiel asks, his glare firm and almost jealous, again. Dean’s expression didn’t change, and he just looked even more confused at Castiel. 

“Cas, I don’t understand. I was just doing some harmless flirting. You know, what you and Spencer should be doing? Keeping up the ‘act’ for everyone?” Dean reminds, gesturing towards the man in question who was giving him a strong death glare. 

Castiel’s shoulders untensed for a moment, almost like he’d forgotten all about Spencer and the rest of the party. And he’d gotten hyper-focused on Dean and his activities. Especially that he was flirting. “Dean, you don’t know him. How do you know if he could be the monster or not?” Castiel tried. Dean shrugged, rolling his eyes. 

“Cas, if he was the monster, I’m sure he would’ve taken me out sooner. Besides, he isn’t of Nordic descent, and he studies the language. He’s just a civilian.” Dean insists, walking past Castiel. “You seem a little uptight Cas… maybe you should eat something.” Dean suggests before walking inside. 

After talking to Castiel, Dean’s feelings were all in a knot. What was he even supposed to feel? Jealous? Flattered? With Castiel acting the way he was, Dean could almost swear he was jealous. And had come over just to make Mark go away. To assert his place beside Dean. Even if his place was supposed to be beside Spencer. 

Dean didn’t know what he was feeling, but he knew it was draining. Because as soon as he walked inside, away from most of the crowd, Dean’s entire body began to loosen and he felt his face drop. Dean just needed a beer. Or two. He was sure of it. 

Dean waltzed into the kitchen, seeing Spencer making his way inside. Dean rolled his eyes and just popped open his beer, leaning against the fridge. Spencer walks in, and his comedic neighborly smile falls and he stomps up to Dean, growling and snarling. Dean rolled his eyes and just kept sipping his beer. 

“I’ve had enough of your bullshit, Dean! He’s mine now. Stop alluding him back to you! You know that you’ll just break his heart again. Push him away again. So what’s the fucking point?” Spencer snaps, getting into Dean’s face. Dean tried not to show how it truly felt, but that statement hurt. It was one thing to tell that to yourself. But to hear it from another person? That solidified the truth in the statement. 

Dean gulped, sipping his beer again as he fought with the tears in the backs of his eyes. Spencer chuckled. “Really? That’s all I have to say to break you? Remind you of what you did? How much you hurt him? Fine. You broke him so bad, Dean. He didn’t even try to kiss me until our fourth month of dating. All because of what you did!” He snarled, shoving Dean against the fridge again as Dean tried to walk away. 

“You broke him! You pushed him away, you tore him down, and guess what? You’ll do it all again. Cause it’s just in your nature, Dean Winchester. Everywhere you go you bring sorrow, and you bring hurt. Even your brother is hurt because of you. So you know what I think? I think you should leave. Leave before you hurt anyone else.” Spencer growled, smirking as he stared straight into Dean’s eyes and his eyes flared red. 

Dean swallowed a hard sob in his throat and he firmed his expression, shoving the beer bottle into Spencer’s hand before he walked away, fast-walking towards the couch to grab what he could. He couldn’t stay anymore. He knew he’d promised Castiel but he couldn’t. Spencer was unrelenting and he just needed to get away. 

Dean began to pick up what he could of his things, before a familiar face came into the living room. Mark rushed over to Dean, confused as to what was going on. “Hey… Hey Dean what are you doing?” Mark asks, moving Dean’s shoulder and making him look at him. Dean shoved Mark’s hands off, no matter how soothing he found them. 

“I’m leaving. Or at least I…” Dean starts, sighing halfway through. No. No Spencer wasn’t going to win. But Dean knew he was going to riot if he stayed here any longer. Dean turned his head and looked up at Mark. His eyes were so much like Cas’s. They were almost made of the same care, the same kind storm. And it made Dean’s knees buckle. 

“I just… I just need a distraction, that’s all.” Dean says dejectedly, sighing as his eyebrows tilt up and he could feel the tears building up again. Dean reached up and wiped his eyes on his shirt, moving his face around to prevent them again. Mark gave Dean a smirk and raised an eyebrow. Mark then tilted Dean’s chin up and leaned into his ear, his other hand finding Dean’s waist. 

“I could be that distraction, if you’d like.” Mark suggests in a dark and sexy seductive voice. Dean could feel his insides melting almost like butter as Mark spoke. Time seemed to slow down as he considered his offer. Dean hadn’t had a one night stand in years since he and Cas had been together for one, and Dean was surely satisfied with him. Did he really wanna go back to it? Yeah, yeah he did. What could it hurt? Castiel had Spencer. That was certain from what he heard when he came home from the library. Dean was never going to be able to feel like this with anyone else. So why the hell not. 

Dean looked into Mark’s eyes and smirked seductively. “Show me what you got, hotshot.” Dean challenged. Mark’s grin grew greedy as he got consent from Dean, grabbing his hand and leading Dean to the front door. 

⬼⬼⬼

Lips crashed into each other as Mark led Dean towards his bed. Dean’s body was pressed against Mark’s, their stumbling feet banging against each other as they backed up into the bed. Dean chuckled away from the kiss for a moment before Mark threw Dean onto the bed, climbing on top of him. Dean gasped heavily as Mark’s lips began to kiss feverishly up and down Dean’s bare chest. 

Dean panted, gripping at Mark’s shirt and pulling, huffing from the sudden rush in activity. “Off, I want it off…” Dean begs, leaning his head back against the soft cushion of the pillows and letting out a groan as Mark’s lips connected to his left nipple. Mark chuckled as he moved his hands from Dean’s waist and pulled his button down shirt off. 

Dean could hardly believe this was happening, his breathing was shallow and he was beginning to feel his pants become restrained. Dean closed his eyes tightly, and in his mind, he found himself imagining Mark as Cas. It was Cas kissing his chest, running his hands down his sides and making him shiver and mewl out a moan. It was Castiel who played with his nipples and bit down teasingly. But as he opened his eyes again, he felt his heart slightly sink when instead he saw Mark working at Dean’s jeans, grunting to himself. 

Dean’s hips raised desperately to Mark’s, wanting to feel something strong enough to push and drown out his longing for his past. Dean was desperate for friction, and kept grinding his now hard erection against Mark’s equally hard tent in his jeans. Mark chuckled, pulling off Dean’s jeans and pressing his hips against Dean’s hard. He leaned into Dean’s ear, soaking in Dean’s loud moans and pants. “Feel good? Excited for me to be inside you?” Mark teases, and Dean just pants and nods in response.   
Mark chuckled again and leaned back, standing at the foot of the bed. He tugged off his jeans with a hungry lust and looked down at Dean hungrily. “Flip, I want to make you feel extra good.” He teases in a whisper. 

Dean’s mind is racing at this point. It’s filled with questions that had no answers, answers for non-existent questions, and a throbbing need in the back of his brain, fueling his lust driven actions. He flipped over for Mark, digging his hands into the sheets as he raised his ass to Mark’s awaiting hand. Mark squeezed his clothed ass and purred, spanking him quickly. Dean jumped, groaning at the sudden jolt of pleasure and pain. 

“Fuck-!” Dean pants, his ass pushing back further as he squeezes his eyes shut again, imagining Castiel in the place of Mark. Dean has to catch himself before he moans Castiel’s name out loud. He quickly changes it to Mark’s name, though he feels sinful doing so. As if what he was doing wasn’t sinful enough. 

Mark’s tender fingers wrapped around Dean’s boxer briefs and tugged them off hurriedly, tossing them across the almost empty room. Mark followed this by his own pair, and began to grind his hips against Dean’s ass, teasing him with his length. Dean’s eyes rolled back as he felt Mark’s length. He was gifted, but a part of Dean knew he wasn’t Cas. Jimmy Novak was one blessed man. 

“You want me? You want me inside this tight little hole of yours Dean?” Mark whispers, leaning towards Dean’s ear and continuously teasing him with his length. “Beg. Let me see that dirty little slut mouth beg for me.” Mark demands. Dean felt his waist and stomach growing tighter, and the feeling from this damn man against him, just at the edge of being able to be inside him was driving him crazy. So he did as he was asked. 

“Damn it, Mark! Fuck me already!” Dean growled, shoving his ass back into Mark’s hands. He’d only ever bottomed for Cas, so he knew this was going to be a different experience. Cas never had to prep him, since he had his grace. So Dean didn’t know how this was going to feel. He was starting to wish that maybe he hadn’t said yes. Because all his mind could think of, even as this was all happening, was Cas. Cas fucking him, Cas teasing him, making him beg. That wasn’t fair to Mark. But all of Dean’s body kept telling him yes. So he gave in, and kept his eyes shut. Mark didn’t have to know he was imagining Cas, and not him. 

Mark chuckled again, his chest pressed against Dean’s back as he whispered into Dean’s ear. “As you wish, Dean.” 

⬼⬼⬼

Dean landed back onto the sheets with a huff, panting heavily as Mark did the same beside him. Dean groaned at the surging pain in his ass and the warmth that had settled in his core. Damn was Mark good, Dean thought for a second. But a feeling of deep regret soon replaced that warm feeling. And Dean felt his chest tighten hard. He felt a stab of pain in his chest and he felt like he was betraying his feelings. 

Dean had never gotten this feeling after any other one-night stands, so he didn’t understand why he was feeling it now. Was it Castiel? Was it his inability to get over the angel? Why did he feel guilty about even saying yes? 

Dean turned over and faced away from Mark, picking up his phone from his jean’s pocket and quickly texting Sam that he was staying somewhere else for the night. Better for them not to worry. It had gotten pretty late. And now Dean had to lay here and shift through the pile and the raging dumpster fire that was his feelings. 

How was Dean ever supposed to get over Castiel if all he could do when he was him was immediately think of all the wrong he’d done and how he’d gotten himself stuck in this rut he was in? He knew he couldn’t. And that was his problem. 

Dean thought back to what Spencer had said. There was some truth to his words. All he brings wherever he goes is sadness and pain. Even to his brother. Did he even deserve to have Sam along on the road? No, because Dean knew he was just an extra weight to carry. Trouble seemed to find him. And he wanted nothing more than to stop it. But he couldn’t. He wanted to have a semi-normal hunting life. But he couldn’t. He wanted to love Castiel, hold him close at night and promise him that he’d always have a home with him. 

But he couldn’t.


	7. Chapter 7

Dean jolts up in bed again, looking around the unfamiliar room and slightly panicking. Where was he? How did he get here? His mind swarms with thoughts until he hears the gentle, consistent buzz of a cell phone. Then Dean remembers. And the pain in his ass remembers. Dean sighed and swung his tired legs out of the bed. He was thankful that Mark had wanted to help, but Dean really regretted what he did. Sure, Cas was with Spencer. But he was betraying what he did have with Cas by not telling him he was leaving. That at least would have been somewhat kind to do. Then he could have made their relationship still repairable when Cas found out he had another one-night stand. 

Then Dean remembered his text to Sam. He hadn’t said anything in specifics, he had been pretty vague. Dean just hoped that he had been specific enough for Sam to tell Cas and that Cas wouldn’t be as worried. Then again, Sam might have gone to bed by then… 

Dean shook his head, getting onto his feet. Immediately he wants to sit back down. His legs feel like jello and like they’re going to fall out from underneath him. Dean gripped the nightstand and took a deep breath. He could do this. He chose this. He stretched briefly before grabbing his clothes from the night before, slipping his shirt over his head and pulling up his boxers and jeans while trying not to fall. Once he was decent, he walked awkwardly over to where his shoes had been kicked to. He slipped them on, tucking the laces into his shoe as he did not want to risk falling over while tying his freaking shoes. 

Dean slowly stood back up, using the dresser as something to hold onto and to steady his wobbling legs. His ass was screaming at him, and Dean didn’t like it one bit. He guessed that was his punishment for doing this in the first place. Idiot. 

Dean looked around the room tiredly. It seemed to be around 7 in the morning. Mark wasn’t in bed, so Dean knew he was going to have an awkward goodbye with the man. Cause Dean just had to sleep in. Dean rolled his eyes and groaned, opening his phone briefly. What welcomed him were 22 missed calls from Castiel, 25 texts from him asking where he was, and one notification from pornhub. Hey, he had his tastes. 

Dean grumbled. His day was going to suck. He just knew it. Why not get it over with now? 

Dean wandered tiredly into the hallway, rubbing his eyes free of sleep. He looked around Mark’s hallway and what he could of his apartment. It was extremely modern. Less apple-pie life and more like how Dick lived. Dean shuttered at the thought. He didn’t want to think of that monster right now. Especially since he and his disgusting kind took Castiel away from him before. 

Dean yawned again, shielding his eyes from the bright light. At least he wasn’t hungover, and he wasn’t nauseous. That was a good thing. Dean kept walking down the long hallway, furrowing his eyebrows. He hadn’t remembered them taking that long to get into his room last night. Maybe it was just all the excitement. 

Dean shrugged off the thought and finally entered the kitchen, seeing a clearly naked Mark pouring coffee into a mug. Dean swallowed the lump in his throat as he gripped his phone, wishing that maybe he had been smart enough to bring a weapon just in case. He still didn’t know anything about this guy other than his name and what he did for a living. And that he was terrible at sex. Sure, he was good at dirty talk. But when it came to everything else? He fell short. 

Before Dean could make a break for the door, Mark turned his head and smirked at Dean. “Leaving so soon? I was about to make breakfast, it’s the least I can offer you.” Mark says, turning around and walking to the fridge to grab what looked like vegan eggs. Dean rolled his eyes. No thanks. He wasn’t against vegans per say, but he didn’t understand how they could resist eating meat. 

“Yeah, uh I gotta get back. You know, my brother’s worried about me. I got that case to worry about.” Dean starts excusing, and Mark nods. 

“Understandable. Well, I guess good luck with it. And here,” Mark starts, walking over to Dean and taking his hand in his and writing his phone number down. “If you need any more translations.” Mark says, winking at Dean. Geesh, didn’t this guy know what a one-night stand meant? 

Dean gave him an awkward smile and nodded, pulling his hand back. “Yeah, thanks man. I will. Have a good day.” He says, mostly lies, as he turns around and makes his way towards the door while vigorously trying to wipe the guy’s number off his skin. He did not want any evidence of what he did all night. He’d figure out some sort of excuse to use on the way back. 

As soon as Dean is out of the guy’s apartment he remembers. He didn’t drive the Impala here. Shit. 

⬼⬼⬼

Dean heaves up the cobblestone walkway, drenched in rainwater, He groaned as he felt his feet slightly aching. If only Mark had told him his house was 6 flipping miles from Castiel’s place. Dean only had enough money on him to get him halfway there, and by his luck it started raining the minute he started walking towards the direction of Cas’s place. He hadn’t answered any phone calls, as his phone had died soon after he left Mark’s. What luck. 

So here he was, soaking wet and tired as he sauntered up to the door, knocking heavily. Dean didn’t even get to knock a third time before the door flew open and he was tugged inside. Dean let out an uneasy noise as he scrambled to regain his footing. He looked up once he did, seeing a very pissed and worried Castiel. 

“Dean Michael Winchester, where in all of existence have you been?!” Castiel scolds, his eyes wide and angry. Dean groaned, his legs still barely carrying his weight after Mark’s onslaught. His eyes looked up into Castiel’s, thinking of some reason why he would have left so suddenly. 

“Cas, I promise, I wasn’t heading back to Lebanon-” Dean promises, holding out his hand to pause Castiel’s long charade. Castiel instead cut him off, shaking his head in annoyance. 

“Well obviously, Dean. You didn’t take the Impala! I thought the monster had taken you! That you were kidnapped, killed and tossed in a field somewhere! What was so important to you that you couldn’t have left a note or somethi-” Castiel begins to rant, before he sees Dean’s hand and the smudged numbers of a phone number. He instantly grabs Dean’s hand, tugging him closer. Dean lets out a small protest, groaning at the sudden pain. Then he realized what Castiel had seen. 

Dean immediately tries to take his hand away from Castiel, being unsuccessful in the task since Castiel was much, much stronger than him, “Cas please it’s not what it looks like-! Let me go Cas-!” Dean called out, trying to take his hand back. 

Castiel turned his head and shoved Dean’s hand back towards him. “Really Dean? A phone number, how is that not what it looks like?” Castiel snarls, hurt and betrayal in his eyes. This made Dean confused. Didn’t Cas want him to move on? Stop being so hung over on Cas? Well he was trying. Now what did he want? Why did he look so upset besides the fact that he was gone all night? Maybe it was just worry, Dean hoped. 

Dean had been wrong. So very wrong. 

“So a random hookup was more important than letting us know where you were? Huh? Was it that Mark guy?” Castiel asked, his eyes looking more and more hurt as he looked at Dean. “Dean, you made a promise to me. That you wouldn’t leave until this hunt was over-!” Castiel reminds, stepping closer to Dean. 

Dean rolled his eyes and stepped forward, getting into Castiel’s face. “And I didn’t! And I sent a text to Sam last night! So I wasn’t putting a ‘random hook-up’ over you.” Dean grumbled, making air quotes. “Why do you care anyway? You have Spencer. Sam is a good listener. You don’t need me. Why does it matter to you that yeah, maybe I did have a one-night stand with Mark?” Dean asks, tilting his head as Castiel’s eyes flash an angry blue. 

“Because Dean! You shouldn’t have been out that late anyway! I-” Castiel paused, panting for a moment. “We needed you here in case the monster DID strike!” Castiel reminds. But his tone reminded Dean of how he sounded the day before, when he had scared Mark off. Was he jealous? Again? 

Dean rolled his eyes and his fist tightened. “Well, then you can blame your lovely Spencer for attacking me and breaking me down so much I HAD to leave!” Dean growled, exclaiming sarcastically. “He told me that I should leave before I hurt anyone else in my life. And you know what? At first I wanted to just get my mind off of it all, you know. Blow off some steam. But I guess even doing that I hurt people. So maybe it would be best if we called off this promise, Cas. It might be best that you never see me again.” Dean snarled, tears building up in the back of his eyes that he refused to let loose. 

Castiel widened his eyes, shocked at this new revelation of events. He looked around at the floor for a moment. “Dean, you can’t go back on that promise now. You made a promise to me. I don’t care if you keep pushing me away Dean I’m going to help you-!” Castiel began to raise his voice again. Dean rolled his eyes and spun right around to face Castiel. 

“How Cas?! How?! Cause right now you ain’t doing a damn good job of it!” Dean exclaims, snarling as he looks into Castiel’s eyes. Castiel stared into Dean’s eyes as his hand twitched. He was so tempted to break Dean’s warding with his grace just to read his true emotions. To be able to truly help him. To tell him that maybe he wants to try again. As long as Dean was willing to let Castiel help him. 

Castiel sighed. “Well first off you shouldn’t have even had the one night stand to begin with. You could have contracted something, or the monster could have chosen you and kept you there for food. You could have hurt yourself-” Castiel tried. Dean blew a large puff of air out of his nose and he spun on his heels, pacing away from Castiel for a moment before he began to yell at the angel. 

“What the hell is your problem with me having a one night stand, Cas?! Why?! Why do you care so much that some other man fucked me?!” Dean bellows, and he could swear he felt his blood rising to his face. Because he saw a mirror of it on Castiel’s face. Castiel was panting in anger now, and he firmed his posture as he almost exploded with his exclamation. 

“Because you’re-!” Castiel yells, cutting himself off. The rest of the phrase echoes in his mind. Taunting him, reminding him of what he so desperately wanted to say. To tell Dean how impossibly jealous he was. He was the one who knew Dean best. He was the one who put him back together after raising him from hell. He knew him better than anyone. Castiel had claimed him. He was his. 

Dean rolled his eyes and glared at Castiel, both of his fists tightening now. “I’m what Cas? What am I?” Dean asks, as if daring Castiel to finally give into whatever this was between them. Dean hoped to Chuck that Cas would do just that. Finish his sentence and maybe just maybe let Dean try again. But then again, Dean didn’t want Castiel to get hurt again. He didn’t want to hurt him again. Both sides of himself were quarreling and he couldn’t stop them from showing anger, sadness, and fear on his face. 

Castiel huffed and took a deep breath in. Now was not the time. No matter how much he wanted desperately to tell Dean, he didn’t want to hurt Spencer. Though what he heard Spencer had done did not make him happy whatsoever. He did not want to hurt either of them. But he was consistently hurting one by being with the other. 

“Because you’re too special to be giving yourself away like that.” Castiel rephrases. Dean scoffs and rolls his eyes, laughing sarcastically. 

“That was not what you were going to say.” Dean says, his voice cracking as he stares heartbroken at Cas. a part of him is relieved that Castiel doesn’t have to risk being hurt by him anymore, But most of him felt as if he had been betrayed by Castiel again. 

Castiel looks over at Dean through the corner of his eye as he turns away, unable to look at Dean in the eye. And all of a sudden Dean felt like the tables were turned. At first, when he first came and was surprised that Castiel was here, he was unable to look Cas in the eye. But now that things had semi gone back to normal, Castiel was the one unable to look at Dean. 

Dean sighed, crossing his arms and putting his face in his hand. “I don’t know how much longer I can do this Cas. Please, be honest with me. Stop lying to me. Just tell me the damn truth.” Dean begged, gesturing towards Castiel. 

Castiel stood there, looking away from Dean for a moment, unsure of whether or not to look Dean in the eyes. To have to see the sorrow there. Castiel wished that Dean would let him burn away the warding, let him see what was really going on in his hunter’s mind. 

Not his hunter. He wasn’t Castiel’s hunter anymore. No matter how hard Castiel wished it. 

Dean loosened his arms and he let them hang at his sides. He was desperate here. He just wanted to know for sure if Castiel truly wanted anything with him. Or if this was all just an act. His brain needed reassurance. Reassurance that he still mattered to the angel. That maybe he was still loved despite being such an asshat. 

Castiel sighed, still not answering Dean. Dean shook his head, taking Castiel’s silence as his answer. “Fine. Have it your way.” Dean snapped, before he stormed off to get changed out of his wet clothes. Castiel was left standing in the middle of the living room, feeling guilty and forlorn for what he’d lost. 

⬼⬼⬼

Dean had gone to bed after everyone else. Cas had stared at him desperately all day, almost begging him to talk again. As if Dean was going to try and work things out anymore. Castiel had made it clear to him that he wasn’t worth fighting for. No matter how much a large part of him was screaming at him to go to him, forget Spencer. But the other, stronger willed part of him was being stubborn. So he was as a result, a dick. 

Spencer also eyed him threateningly all night, but at this point Dean has learned to ignore it. Sam was just uncomfortable with the energy in the room. He went to bed first. They had all discussed the case during dinner. No one at the party showed any reaction to the silver, no reaction to the salt at the doorway, the holy water they served, nada. So they were back to square one. 

Before Sam had gone to bed, Dean made sure to get his silver knife off of him. He knew this monster had an eye on him. Whether it was Spencer or not, the message seemed way too specific. And besides, he lined up with most of the guy’s MO except he knew he was definitely not Nordic. 

So here he was, sleeping away on Castiel’s couch. The motel hadn’t reopened since the murder happened, so he was stuck with Castiel’s place. No matter how pissed he was at Cas. And that is when he felt someone pull him off the couch, and he hit the ground with a thud. He banged his head against the coffee table, cursing to himself and looking up, seeing a blurry version of Spencer. 

“You know, I really thought hiring Mark to try and get you the Hel away from Cas I really thought that it would work. Being that you were so desperate for someone to give a damn.” The voice that entered the room was immediately recognizable. It was fucking Spencer. 

“But turns out your definition of ‘someone giving a damn’ is a one night stand. Still hurt Cas, which is what I wanted. But you know what he did? He scolded me! For pushing you away! Can’t you just shut up for once? Keep to yourself? I swear I haven’t had any victims as much of a tattle tale as you.” Spencer groaned just as Dean heard the snap of gloves. Of course. 

Dean backed up against the couch, his vision finally clearing up enough for him to see Spencer with full red eyes and skin that was darkening to a grey, almost undead color. The white’s of his eyes turned black and his teeth seemed to grow longer. Whatever Spencer was, he was definitely the monster. But unfortunately, Dean didn’t know what the hell would kill him. Or Hel, why did Spencer refer to Hell as Hel? Wait, Norse mythology, nevermind. 

Either way, Dean knew he was ultimately screwed if what he had on him didn’t work. Because just from looking at this new ‘form’ of Spencer’s, he was larger. Like he’d made himself bigger at will. 

“Listen, man, I get you love Cas and all, I get that, But if you really want him to love you, you gotta let him make his own choices-” Dean started. But apparently Spencer was having none of it because as soon as he began to give Spencer advice, Spencer’s elongated and dead nails swiped at him, cutting across his chest. 

Dean didn’t feel anything other than the pain of being cut, so he hoped that whatever Spencer was wasn’t something he could get turned into by getting his DNA in you. But nonetheless, Dean let out a grunt of pain, to which Spencer quickly covered his mouth, obviously not wanting to wake either of the other two men in the house. 

“Would you shut up?! I’m trying to feed in peace here and you certainly aren’t helping! The world will be a much better place once you aren’t around to ruin my plans-” Spencer sneers, leaning into Dean’s neck, and almost turning his head completely around. His teeth were bared against Dean’s throat, like he was going to suck his blood like a freaking vamp. Oh hell no. 

Dean reached into the couch where he’d stashed the knife and swung it back behind him at Spencer. And all of a sudden Spencer cried out in pain as Dean jerked the knife back. Dean turned around and looked at Spencer, who was holding his now bleeding shoulder with a large gash that seemed to grow larger and larger as his skin and eyes turned back to normal. What the hell even was this guy? 

Spencer let out a curse in a language he couldn’t comprehend as he stared dead at Dean, almost as a promise to come back and finish the job. Then he hurried back up the stairs, probably to tell Castiel and get him kicked out, knowing the man. Or monster. Or whatever he was. 

Dean was completely confused. But the one thing he knew for sure was that a, Spencer was definitely the monster. B, he had to be a norse monster otherwise how the hell did he write the language on the back of the victim that he had killed when he hadn’t been able to get to Dean. Guess Dean had been lucky to have had a mental breakdown. 

Dean was shaken, but not without his hunter’s instinct. He knew that silver at least harmed him. Now Dean just had to figure out what he was up against, convince Sam and Cas that Spencer was what he was, and kill him. That was a checklist longer that it seemed. But he had to do it. 

For Cas, and for Sam.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Uh... Warnings for my readers who would much rather not have to read smut! The smut starts at the line; "Then yes." and ends at "Thank you Dean..." 
> 
> Just thought I'd warn you! The tag is officially Explicit now XD

Dean couldn’t go back to sleep. Give Spencer another opportunity to try and feed on him while he’s unconscious? No thank you. Dean was heavily on edge, he was panting and he gripped the side of the couch and the knife in his hands like a crutch. What even was he? He looked like a dead body that had been in the ground for a good twenty years and was decaying like a bitch. Guess that’s where the decaying smell came from. 

Dean’s eyes scaled the living room. Any possible exit of the room was quickly put into his memory; The screen door, through the kitchen to the back door, out the open window Castiel had a screen behind, etc. Dean couldn’t let this monster hurt anyone else. The good news was that he didn’t seem to hold a grudge against Sam or Cas, so Dean just had to keep an eye on Spencer, make sure he doesn’t try anything to get alone with Sam. Cas was definitely safe and in the green zone. Spencer ‘loved’ him. But it was more like a yandere relationship.   
Dean reached under the couch for his things, and ended up finding where Sam had stashed his laptop instead. Dean only slightly smiled at this, pulling it out and laying it in his lap. Now to find out what the hell Spencer even was. And what he wanted with Castiel. 

Dean opened up the laptop and typed into the search bar. He began to look through multiple websites, desperate to find out something that he can use against Spencer. As he looked through website after website, hours had passed. Dean’s eyes strained as he watched the screen, blinking away the burning tears that escaped as he tried to refocus. The current website he was on was about the undead variety of the norse culture. As he was looking through the website, a picture came up. 

It was of a draugr. It looked like a decaying body. Much like what Spencer looked like. It had red eyes, and had bone showing. The website said that the draugr sucked blood from it’s victims, and it’s victims tended to remind them of people who had wronged them in life. Dean guessed that maybe Spencer had learned some kind of magic to make himself look normal. And when he had struck him with the knife, it had damaged the spell. If this was what Spencer was. Though Dean wasn’t completely sure that he was wrong. 

Dean furrowed his eyebrows, squinting from his tired eyes. His mind was filled with names and translations that all seemed to leak into each other. So he was tired, to say the least. And that’s when he heard noises coming down the stairs. He gripped the silver knife next to him, closing the computer and sliding it back under the couch. Dean’s eyes hurt from the sunlight peeking through the windows and the curtain covered screen door. Had he really been awake that long? 

Nonetheless, he was prepared for it to be Spencer coming back for a second round. He hadn’t found anything that could kill him yet, but he figured that if maybe they got him with silver in the chest, like a bunch of other monsters, he’d die. Dean just hoped he was right. Still he had to try a machete to his head if it didn’t. 

So again, Dean readied himself, not daring to get off the couch and alert Spencer that he knew. And when the person turned the corner, Dean thrusted his knife forward, missing Sam’s cheek by a half inch. Sam widened his eyes and slowly turned his head towards his brother. “Okay… something’s up with you. You almost stabbed me in the face. With a silver knife.” Sam says, carefully picking up the knife from the floor, seeing dark blood on it. He widened his eyes and raced over to Dean, forcing him to stand up and show Sam his wrists. 

“Show me your wrists, Dean. Show me your damn wrists!” He demanded, causing Dean to raise an eyebrow. 

“S-Sammy-?! Wh-what? No, no I did not cut myself man! Let me go-!” He scoffed, pulling his arms from Sam’s grips, rubbing his wrists once they were free. “What the hell Sam?!” He demanded, blinking his eyes as he felt the sleep heavy on his eyes. At least he hadn’t woken up crying this time. But that was because Spencer decided to give him something to cry about. 

Sam sighed, gripping the silver knife in his hand. He raised it to show Dean, his eyes widened in shock. “What the hell Dean? You threw a bloody freaking knife at me! What’s gotten you so tense?” Sam asks, holding the knife away from Dean. Dean grumbled, reaching up and trying to grab the knife frantically away from Sam. 

“Just give it back Sam! I need it!” He growled, knocking Sam back enough to startle him. Dean took that opportunity to pry the knife from his hands and put it back in his belt. Sam widened his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. He sighed heavily and then turned his head to look at Dean again. 

“Dean, you don’t need it. Why would you even need it? Wait… Dean is… Are you bleeding?” Sam asks, looking at Dean’s chest where Spencer had cut him. Dean rubbed his forehead and looked at Sam in a sarcastic manner. 

“Yeah! Sammy! Cause that damn monster attacked me last night! I’ve been trying to find out what the hell he is!” Dean growled. “But apparently silver hurts him. That’s what the blood is from, Sam.” Dean says exasperatedly. Sam’s eyes widened immediately as he heard his brother’s story, forgiving him of his need to have the knife close. 

“But, Dean you aren’t Norse. Neither am I, why would it go after you?” Sam asks. Dean sighed and walked up close to Sam, taking out the knife. 

“Sam, you’re probably gonna think this is crazy, but the monster is-” Dean started, easing into getting to the point. Then he heard someone else coming down the stairs. Before Dean could react, his knife was cast out of his hand by Castiel. 

Spencer came down the stairs behind him, smirking slightly as he buttoned his shirt, like he planned on going to work. Castiel came into the living room fuming, his eyes hinting at a glaring blue. He looked at Sam, and gestured for him to leave with his head. Sam gave Cas a very confused look, glancing over at Spencer, who had on a shoulder brace. Typical for him to make it worse than it was. 

Castiel’s broken, but powerful wings began to show up on the wall behind him, taking one step towards Sam. Sam immediately got Castiel’s message, and left the room. Dean felt his blood run cold, and he swallowed the lump in his throat. Castiel was pissed. And he knew exactly why. He only hoped that if Castiel did kill him, that maybe Naomi or whoever’s in charge upstairs will cut him some slack. 

“Dean, what is this I hear of you attacking Spencer? That was uncalled for! You may not like him, but that does not warrant you attacking him! What were you thinking, Dean?” Castiel exclaims, his vessel lighting up with his grace. Dean widened his eyes as he looked at Castiel, fear running through his bones. Castiel and his true form was something that Dean never wanted to see. So Castiel being this angry was a bad thing. 

“Look, Cas. I was sleeping and you know I never sleep without a knife under my pillow. Spencer…” Dean started. Was Cas even going to believe him? Castiel was an angel, so how did he even not see what Spencer was? Dean considered telling him, but decided it would be easier if he found out on his own and tried to kill Spencer on his own. He’d be hurting his relationships with Sam and Cas, but it was worth it to keep them safe. “He tried to wake me and I ended up stabbing him in the shoulder, alright?” Dean finished after a little while.

Castiel narrowed his eyes as Spencer slunk past him, going out the front door. Dean mentally cursed. He’d have to wait until he was alone with Spencer. Ask Cas and Sam to go out and get lunch again. Though Cas probably already suspected Dean. “That was not what you were planning to say, Dean.” Castiel sneered in a calm voice. Dean scoffed and his hand tightened into a fist once more. 

“Well yeah, Cas. Cause apparently, all we can do is keep secrets from each other!” Dean reminds, his eyes wide and sarcastic. Castiel’s grace died a little and he calmed down a bit. Dean had been right. He had done the same thing to the elder Winchester just the night prior. 

“Dean, please tell me the truth. I promise, things will be better off that way. We can make this better.” Castiel tries. Dean scoffs again, tears slowly forming in the back of his eyes. 

“No, Cas. No. Because the entire time I’ve been here? I’ve hurt you. Spencer actually had some fact to what he was saying. I hurt everyone I’m around. Ellen, Jo, Bobby, Charlie, Kevin, Sam, You, you’ve all died for me. You and Sam more than once. When am I ever gonna stop losing the people I love?! Never! Because I’m cursed, Cas! I hurt everyone I’m around. I don’t want to hurt you or-or get you killed again! That’s why I keep pushing you away! Keep you far enough away that I don’t hurt you with everything else in my head! Do you know how many nightmares I’ve had of you dying? Over and over?” Dean rants, a single tear building up in his tear duct and falling down his cheek. Castiel widened his eyes, not expecting Dean to confess to how he’s been feeling. 

“Dean, I’m glad you’re telling me-” Castiel starts, taking a step forward towards Dean. Dean’s eyes are casted towards the floor, his chest rising and falling in quick succession. 

“How many, Cas?!” Dean demands, effectively interrupting Cas as his voice cracked from how strained his throat was. Dean’s eyes flew up to look at Cas, waiting for a response. Dean was tense all over. This argument was once he’d dreaded. Telling Cas of all his problems. Letting him in. Maybe he still didn’t have to. Just make Cas aware of how bad it is. But knowing Cas, he wouldn’t be able to get away with that little. 

Castiel sighed, looking down to where Dean had. His chest was filled with a bundle of human emotions. He detected jealousy, anger, sadness, guilt, and a tiny pang of happiness that Dean had shared something so hard to share. “Too many…” He finally answered. Dean let out a tsk and and looked up, blinking away incoming tears. Why was he so emotional? He remembered a time when in an argument discussing his feelings he wouldn’t even shed a tear. But now he was finding it hard not to. 

“Every night.” Dean corrects. “I have them every night. With the added memory of when I screwed up with you and seeing Sammy die in front of me, losing both of you, you have your answer for my unconscious tears!” Dean exclaimed, glaring at Castiel with a hard, and desperate stare. He wanted Castiel to understand. To maybe get him to maybe share something of his own. 

Castiel furrows his eyebrows and they tilt up, creasing his forehead. “Dean, I… I’m sorry. You know how everything happened. You were pushing me away, Dean. You don’t have to do that anymore. You may think you hurt me Dean, and you do. You really do. But just because you do does not mean you are not worthy of being with me. Or being… being with someone else…” Castiel sighed, trailing off. Dean let out an unprompted hiccup from his body trying to sob, but Dean forced it down. 

“So--Everything that happened between us that night, both nights. That doesn’t mean anything to you, Cas? Is he really better than me? He better fucking be cause I’m not letting you run down that road with that man. Someone else maybe. But not fucking him-!” Dean yelled at Cas, pointing towards the entrance. Castiel rolled his eyes and stood closer to Dean. 

“What is your problem with him, Dean? Sure, he’s shown some jealousy but-” Castiel starts. Dean’s lip quivers and he squeezed his eyes shut, finally letting tears free. 

“Jealousy? Cas that’s what you call jealousy? He literally broke me down at the party to get me to leave! To break my promise to you! He paid Mark off to screw me! He has shown me nothing but hostility ever since he found out I was your ex! If that’s what jealousy is I’m a fucking saint!” Dean fumes, his hand returning to his side. 

Castiel sighed, looking away from Dean again. He looked like he was thinking. He pondered over what Dean said. He was right. Spencer had been nothing but unkind to Dean since he had arrived. But was that really jealousy? 

Dean hit the side of his leg and he wiped his face with his hands, looking away from Cas. He was tired of this. All of this running back and forth between them. Did Cas still want him or not? Had Dean even asked Cas to forgive him yet? This was just all too much. 

“Cas… Just… I’m sorry… I…” Dean scrambled to find the words, looking around the room, tears cascading from his eyes like a water fountain. He sighed sadly and looked down at his hand. “Is he at least a better bottom than me?” Dean asks, his voice breaking. Castiel looks up at him, his eyes confused and his heart hurt at what Dean was saying. 

“What?” Castiel asked, getting closer to Dean and putting a hand on his shoulder. Dean shrugged it off, wiping away his tears. 

“Is he at least a better bottom than me? I know I wasn’t good Cas. I’d always been a top. I know you faked enjoying it Cas, how can anyone really want something that intimate with me?” Dean asks, clutching at his chest as it ached harder and deeper. 

Castiel tilts his head more, his own hands turning into fists at the thought of Dean even thinking like this. “Dean, I… I don’t understand.” Castiel asks, putting his hand again on Dean’s shoulder. Dean turns around and looks Castiel dead in the eyes. 

“Cas… don’t play dumb. I heard you guys. Two days ago. I came back early from the library. I heard Spencer moaning. I put the pieces together. Just tell me that. Please.” Dean begged, looking into Castiel’s eyes again with a desperate look. Castiel looks down at Dean’s feet, then he turns his head back up towards Dean. 

“Dean, you have been my first, and my only partner that I have slept with. I would not lie to you. I was with Sam at the time. I had gotten the food you requested. So he was not having sex with me.” Castiel says. Dean looks up from the floor. He sighed, squeezing his eyes shut. 

“Still Cas, I sucked. Whether he cheated or not I was terrible, Cas. I know you faked enjoying it. You just wanted to know how to do it and then you didn’t need me, but you felt bad about it.” Dean assumed, running his hand through his hair, not looking at Castiel’s darkening expression. “I had never been a submissive before, Cas. So I sucked. I’ve always been on top… Cause it’s always been women. The only reason women ever want me is for a one-night stand. There’s too much baggage for them to want to stick around. I guess I’m just glad that you got away from me when you did, or else you’d be stuck with me-” Dean says, blinking away more tears. Castiel finally grabs Dean’s shoulders and turns him around, pressing him up against the wall. 

“Don’t assume my enjoyment, Dean. I very much enjoyed taking you apart and putting you back together again. I enjoyed having you underneath me, begging me to let you come. But when I wouldn’t, you would beg me so much, I just had to let you. You don’t understand, Dean. I’ve claimed you. The moment my grace connected with your soul in hell we were bonded. It is me, and only me who has control over your ecstasy.” Castiel whispered, leaning into Dean’s ear. 

Dean gulped, feeling a shiver run down his spine and start to warm his core. Dean felt his cheeks begin to brighten in shame at the growing tent in his pants. Cas never failed to turn him on, no matter the place, situation, or who was present. If Castiel had the intention of making Dean squirm, he succeeded.

“Cas… You love Spencer, don’t shackle yourself to me-” Dean tried after clearing his throat. Something began to fester inside of Dean, and it felt oh so familiar. Dean felt Castiel’s grace stroking him inside his clothed entrance. He immediately stopped, covering his face to prevent from moaning. Castiel smirked, leaning closer into Dean’s ear and where hickeys remained from Mark. 

“Oh I’m not shackling myself to anyone. I choose you, Dean. And don’t worry about Spencer. He cheated first.” Castiel smirked, his eyes blown wide with lust as his mouth attached itself to Dean’s neck, and Dean moaned Cas’s name, his hands finding Castiel’s shoulders and gripping tightly. 

“C-Cas-” Dean starts, gasping as Castiel’s lips sucked a new line of hickeys into his neck, focusing on the spot that Mark had bitten. It was almost like he was reinstating his claim. Which of course, Dean didn’t mind one bit. Castiel’s hands migrated to Dean’s sides, squeezing his sides and sliding his hands under his black t-shirt. Dean immediately shivered and moaned out Castiel’s name again. 

“You have been mine since I first put you together, Dean. I do not care if you are a good, or a bad bottom. All I care about is if I’m able to make you come. Hear you say my name, and know that the only thing in all of existence that can make you feel this way is me.” Castiel says in a gravelly and seductive voice. 

Dean instantaneously shakes out a moan, leaning his head against the wall as Castiel’s grace brushed against his prostate. He was shaking now, and he could barely keep his mind straight. Castiel was really pushing him back into being his bottom. Dean only hoped that this meant that he got to reclaim the title of boyfriend too. 

Castiel chuckled, taking Dean’s chin and tilting his face back towards Castiel’s. “You are mine, Dean. No matter how much you push me away, I am not going to give up what’s mine. Never again.” Castiel says in a dark and serious tone, with hints of seductive pangs to it. At this, Castiel unzips Dean’s jeans, and looks up into Dean’s eyes, his blue and lust blown eyes searching his being for the warding and for Dean’s permission. 

“Do I have permission, Dean? Can I retake you, and can I break this warding stuck inside of you?” Castiel asks, his hand stroking Dean’s length through his opened jeans and his boxers. Dean’s breath shakes, Castiel’s grace slowly and still moving inside of him. He was unable to speak for a moment, looking into Castiel’s eyes questioningly. 

“Well? I need to know, Dean. I will not do this without your consent.” He asks again, his voice somehow deeper than normal, which sent a direct beeline of pleasure to Dean’s crotch. Dean’s eyes rolled into the back of his head for a moment, biting his lip. He couldn’t think straight, not with Castiel’s grace moving inside of him and his hand stroking him, even through his boxers. He thought of Spencer, even as a monster, Cas loved him. Or at least Dean thought he did. Did Cas still love Dean? Not that love was directly needed for something like this… 

“Cas… D-do...Do you still love me..” Dean asks shakily, his teeth clenching as Castiel’s grace stopped suddenly inside of him. Castiel tilts his head for a moment. 

“Dean Michael Winchester, I have never stopped loving you.” Castiel leaned into his ear, whispering his response. Dean shivered again at how close Cas was to his ear. He had his answer. 

“Then yes.” 

Castiel’s eyes immediately darkened the rest of the way, and he grasped at the hem of Dean’s shirt, pulling it up and over his head. He moved his hands to Dean’s waist, and his grace to Dean’s crotch. “Turn around,” Castiel huskily commands. Dean blushed brightly and nodded, turning his body and pressing himself against the wall. Dean used his hands to brace himself against the wall, waiting for what Castiel had planned for him. 

Castiel’s hands snaked around to Dean’s front, taking the two parts of Dean’s open jeans, opening them wider as he tugs Dean’s jeans down his legs. After this, Dean can finally feel Castiel against him as he wraps his arms around Dean’s torso. He's taken off his trench coat, and Dean can feel his pants are unzipped, and open. 

“How would you feel, if I got inside you? Replaced what Mark left behind with what truly belongs inside of you?” Castiel asks, leaning into Dean’s neck and nipping teasingly at the now purpled skin. Dean shivered, backing his ass back against Castiel’s. He earns a chuckle in his ear as a response. “I’m taking that as a yes.” He teases as he makes quick work of Dean’s boxers and pulls them down with his pants at his ankles. 

Now that Dean was practically bare, the effect of Castiel’s grace was magnifying. He grasped at the wall, trying to find something to grab at. Castiel pulled his own pants halfway down, along with his boxers. Then his hands find Dean’s waist, pulling him flesh against Castiel’s chest. 

“Cas-! F-fuck… Ngh-! Please-” Dean begs, feeling Castiel’s oh so familiar length against his entrance. He was growing desperate. His cock was hard, and raised high against his belly. Castiel already had him leaking precum from the work-up. 

Castiel chuckled as he pressed his tip against Dean’s tender ring of muscle around his entrance, making Dean moan once again. “How much do you want me, Dean? How much have you dreamed of me taking you again?” Castiel asks, nipping at Dean’s ear. 

Dean hangs his head, his mind giving him blanks as all he could focus on was Cas, Cas, Cas. “M-More th-than you know, Cas-! J-just please! Fuck me-!” Dean begged, his nails digging somewhat into the wallpaper. This seemed to be just what Castiel wanted, because as soon as Dean uttered his last syllable, Castiel had begun pushing into his hunter, cutting Dean off. 

Both of them groaned as Castiel pushed deeper into Dean, sending bolts and shivers up both of their spines. Dean felt the pool in his core growing warmer. Damn Cas always had his way with him. He was already halfway there. 

Finally, after a good solid two minutes of Dean adjusting and Castiel pushing in, Castiel bottomed out, and paused, letting Dean adjust completely again. Though with the addition of his grace, it wasn’t long. Dean moaned lowly, and flicked his wrist, nodding at Castiel to go ahead. 

“Ngh… Come on Cas,” Dean chuckled slightly. “You know I like it a little painful,” Dean reminds, looking back at the angel currently inside him. Castiel chuckled, and almost pulled out. 

“I haven’t forgotten.” Castiel whispered into the hunter’s ear before he slammed right back into him, eliciting a loud and shaky moan from him. Castiel began thrusting deep into the hunter, grunting harshly as he began a fast, but easy starting pace inside of Dean, gripping his waist a little too hard. 

“C-CAS-!! Ngh-! FUCK!” Dean cried out, tears brimming in his eyes as Castiel began to slowly pick up the pace, causing Dean’s moans to grow even louder. Castiel’s hand moved from his waist to Dean’s mouth, covering his mouth as he leaned into his neck. Castiel left a deep bite mark in his skin, not deep enough to draw blood or to scar though. Just enough to establish his claim. 

“Shh, Dean. As much as I love hearing every word that comes out of your mouth, no matter how stupid, I can’t let Sam know what we’re up to, now can I?” Cas asks, smirking as he holds Dean even closer to his body. 

Dean shivers, crying out at Castiel’s bite. Dean doesn’t dare open his eyes, he can already feel the tears of pleasure cascading down his cheeks. Castiel’s grace wraps around Dean’s length, causing him to jolt his back straight for a moment. Castiel chuckled at this, and began to make his grace start to stroke Dean in time with his rapidly increasing thrusts. 

Castiel spread Dean’s legs farther, effectively thrusting deeper and hitting Dean’s prostate. Dean again jolted, and his moans began to melt into one another, while still muffled. He could barely even comprehend anything else, couldn’t even remember how to speak. All that came out were the beginnings of words and Cas’s name. 

Castiel himself began to get a tight knot in his stomach, and he knew he was close. He sped up his grace on Dean’s length and gripped Dean’s waist once more with both of his hands. Dean moaned much louder, his toes curling as he could feel his release building up inside of him. He was just so damn close, he could almost taste it. 

Castiel tangled his thrusts and began to pound into Dean’s prostate. It didn’t take more than three thrusts into Dean’s prostate that he came with a loud and pornographic cry of Castiel’s name, head tilted back and all. Dean’s release exploded over the wallpaper and the floor, dripping from his tip once it had finished. Castiel was not too far behind, as Dean had tightened up on him from his orgasm. He struggled to thrust any faster, and finally, after a good few more thrusts Castiel thrusted in as deep as he could, spilling his release deep inside of him. 

Dean had tears in his eyes as his orgasm finally faded away. He felt so content as he leaned back against Castiel’s chest, panting heavily as Castiel finished up his release. Dean let his eyes close, and he relaxed even further as Castiel’s lips returned to his neck and planted a trail of kisses down his neck and shoulder. 

“C-cas…” Dean grunted, his hands finding where Castiel’s were on his waist and intertwining their fingers. Castiel recalled his grace, and just moved it deep inside Dean, successfully breaking the warding that Dean had inside of him. Castiel then slowly pulled out of Dean, eliciting a whimper from the hunter. Castiel chuckled and turned Dean around, leaning him against the wall as he helped get the hunter dressed once again. 

“Thank you Dean. I assure you this won’t be the last time I take you, especially when Sam can hear.” Castiel winked, smirking as he buttons Dean’s jeans, followed by his own. Dean was still somewhat panting, beginning to lean towards Castiel again. Castiel smiled and pulled Dean close once more, cupping his cheek. 

“I love you, Dean Winchester. You don’t have to hide from me.” Castiel assures, pulling Dean into a long awaited kiss. Dean’s heart skipped a beat, and he hesitated before he let himself kiss Castiel back. He felt the familiar spark reappear in his chest as he tilted his head, pressing his lips firmly against Castiel’s. 

Castiel didn’t go any further than the gentle kiss, pulling back after a few moments. “Stay here, Dean. I’ll need your help when I get back.” Castiel says, cupping Dean’s cheek once more before he kisses it in a way to say that he’ll return. 

Dean hummed, his mind still not remembering the one, fragile detail of the entire situation. He nodded, frowning a bit as he pouted. He was still in his haze of the after sex. Castiel chuckled and kissed his forehead. “I… I love you too Cas..” Dean murmurs tiredly. Castiel snickered again and turned around, making his way to the front door and leaving. 

And that’s when Dean finally snapped out of his haze and remembered. He had to warn Castiel about Spencer. 

Shit.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, Sorry this one is short and late. Life happens. I wasn't feeling too hot yesterday. And this one was kind of a catch-all chapter anyway. Hope you like it though.

Dean wastes no time as his feet scamper across the floor and he races towards the front door where Castiel had left to go after Spencer. He throws open the door and rushes across the walkway, waving his arms for Castiel to see him, and maybe stop enough for Dean to explain why the hell he was racing out to Castiel. Of course, he was slightly unease by the lack of pain in his legs from the comparison of Cas and Mark’s way of fucking Dean till he cries. 

Only one of them succeeded in that, but still. The comparison was there. 

Unfortunately, Dean reached the driveway and the edge of the property line too late. Castiel’s car was already driving off. Dean cursed to himself, worrying about what Spencer would do to Castiel now that he wasn’t under whatever spell that he had Sam and Cas under before. 

“Son of a bitch!” He cursed, turning around and rubbing his face. He still didn’t understand why exactly Castiel had gotten so possessive over him. Of course, Dean was glad that Castiel still felt the same as Dean, and still loved him. Not that he didn’t appreciate the good fucking, he was just slightly confused. 

Dean pushed it off as Castiel partially wanting Dean to shut up about being a terrible bottom, quarter him wanting to show Dean just how good of a bottom he was and that he still loved him, and half that he wanted to get back at Spencer. Dean partially smiled at the last part. He never took the angel for the revenge type. Maybe Dean had rubbed off on him. 

Either way, Dean needed to find a way to get to Cas before he met up with Spencer. Or else Cas was going to be in trouble. And Dean wasn’t going to let him get hurt because of Dean’s stupid decisions again. Dean paced back and forth over the stone walkway until he remembered Sam was still in the house. Immediately his feet carried him back into the house and raced up the stairs, pinching his nose as he burst into the guest bedroom where Sam had been staying. 

Sam jumped up immediately when he saw Dean, confused as to why he looked so distraught. He pulled his headphones off and gave Dean a confused look. “Dean? Dean what’s wrong?” Sam asks, walking over to his brother. Dean grabs Sam’s shoulders and shook his head. 

“No, No Sam you gotta listen. I don’t care if you believe me or not.” Dean starts, beginning to rant before Sam looked Dean in the eyes with his own worried ones. 

“Dean, calm down, this isn’t an emergency, you can slow down man-” Sam assures, earning a growl from Dean. Dean’s eyes were bulging with worry and anger, just urgent to find a way to alert Cas of the danger he was putting himself in. 

“Sam this is an emergency damn it! Just--” Dean rants, groaning for a moment. “Fine, just, listen. Look, Spencer attacked me last night. He tried to suck my blood from the back of my neck. He looked dead, man. Like his skin turned dark grey and it was decaying-” Dean explains, looking away from Sam as he described what Spencer had looked like the night before. 

Sam raised an eyebrow and shook his head. “No, no Dean that-That can’t be true. Are you sure you weren’t just imagining all of it? You and him have been at each other’s throats the entire time we’ve been here.” Sam asks, his eyebrow raised hesitantly. 

Dean groaned again. He hated this stupid spell. He knew that Cas was able to break it on his own, probably because of his underlying feelings that still existed for Dean. But there was nothing Dean knew that could break the spell off of Sam. 

“Sam, no. Trust me, I hit my head against the coffee table last night. Hell, I have a bump on my head from it! I’m telling you man, he had grey decaying skin and his eyes were glowing red! And I did my own research, that’s why I got those books from the library. I hit him with silver last night and that’s when he shifted back to how he looked like when we first met him. Why his eyes are so dead. Cause he’s already dead, Sam!” Dean exclaimed. 

Sam looked at Dean, still unconvinced. “Dean, are you sure you aren’t just jealous? Man, I know you love Cas. Still do. But you gotta let him move on, and you gotta do that too. I don’t know where you went the night of the barbeque but I hope you were able to get your mind off of all this. It’s not healthy, Dean.” Sam says, his puppy eyes in full swing. Dean growled and rolled his eyes. 

Dean finally just tugs at his shirt and shows Sam the mark on his chest. “See this, Sam?! How else was I supposed to get a mark like this if I wasn’t attacked by some monster that was in the freaking house last night? Why else would I be so paranoid this morning? Why did I throw the knife at you as you came down the freaking stairs?!” Dean rants, gripping the collar of his shirt so tightly his knuckles began to turn white. 

Sam’s eyes slightly widened as he looked at the wound again, stepping forward hesitantly to inspect the wound further than he had earlier that morning. His hand briefly touched the scab that had covered Dean’s cut and he widened his eyes further. The rest of the house had been locked. How else would the monster have gotten in? 

“See? Monster, man. Spencer is the freaking monster. And the guy I went home with the night of the barbeque? Spencer hired him to try and get me to stay away from Cas! Like as if I was going to ruin Cas’s happiness!” Dean exclaimed again, his voice filled with annoyance as Sam backed away from Dean and started to pace the room. 

“What did you stab him with? Did the silver knife that had blood on it work on him?” Sam asks, glaring at Dean questioningly. Dean nodded frantically, as if this was the most obvious thing in the world. 

“Yes, Sam! So at least we know what the hell hurts him.” Dean expressed, pulling his collar back up and letting his hands fall to his sides. “Sam, the message fits Spencer too. ‘Stay away, if you value your life’, Spencer wanted me away from Cas. So he took that victim and decided to leave me a message while he was at it. Sam, his nails are freaking long! And they hurt like a bitch!” Dean expresses, holding up a finger and pointing it at Sam as he spoke. Sam rolled his eyes and continued pacing. 

“So… you really think Spencer is the monster we’re fighting? What even is he, then?” Sam asks, raising an eyebrow and giving Dean a bitch face. Dean grumbled. Was it really gonna be this freaking hard to convince his brother? Then again he was under the control of some sort of spell. 

Dean sighed. “I--I don’t know, alright? I have an idea, but I don’t know for sure. You gotta believe me Sammy.” Dean exclaimed, walking over to Sam and gripping his shoulders. “You’re under some kind of spell. That smell I told you I smelled? Yeah, it's really bad out in the hallway but you just didn’t smell it! How else would you not unless you were under a spell?” Dean’s arms fly around as he gestures to Sam to try and get him to understand and to convince him of the truth. 

Sam sighed after Dean finished, shaking his head. “Dean, I need proof of this. I can’t just go on a hunch.” Sam starts, making Dean roll his eyes. Dean was getting sick and tired of Sam’s bullshit. Even if it was because of a stupid spell. 

Dean grumbled and threw his hands up into the air. “You know what? Fine. I’ll go save Cas from this asshole by myself. Thanks a lot, Sam.” Dean growled before he left the room in a huff. Dean slammed the door behind him, and immediately groaned from the smell re-entering his nose. 

“Gross… I swear this guy really needs something much stronger than that cologne he uses.” Dean coughed, squinting his eyes as he looked around. Then an idea came into his head. 

Dean took a deep breath in and ventured closer to Spencer and Cas’s room, his eyes beginning to burn from the potent smell. Dean entered the room and instantly coughed and rubbed his eyes. He opened his eyes as much as he could, and took a look around the room. 

In the corner of the room was a mirror and a dresser in between two windows. In the center of the room was a white comforter covered bed. Dean grumbled softly. Copycat, he thought. He ventured deeper into the room and spies on the right wall, a door. He assumed it to be the closet. Castiel didn’t seem to change his clothing much. Dean hadn’t changed what he was wearing most of the time he’d stayed here. Just a change of jacket here and there and then the FBI suit he had to wear. 

Dean ventured closer to the closet and opened it slowly, just in case this guy had some sort of trap set up for him. Dean wouldn’t rule out that possibility. It’d happened way too often. Thankfully, when he’d opened the closet door, there was not a trap or a fear inducing cat. There was instead a very rune covered photo pair of Sam and Cas. The runes seemed to be written in Spencer’s blood. But Dean wasn’t sure. Either way he knew he had to show this to Sam. Or rip in half. Maybe both. 

Dean runs back into Sam’s room with the photo, not caring as he almost slips. Sam raised an eyebrow, having already laid back down with his headphones to listen to some podcast. Dean rolled his eyes and stormed over, ripping the headphones off. Sam looked up at Dean in disbelief. 

“Dude! Those cost like, 40 bucks!” Sam exclaimed, looking at Dean in shock.  
Dean rolled his eyes and shoved the photo in Sam’s face. “You wanted proof? You got it. Now are you with me or not?” Dean asks, letting Sam take the photo in his hands after Dean had shoved it towards him. Sam blinked a few times, looking at the photo confused. 

“These are just runes like the one on the message, Dean I don’t understa-” Sam starts. Dean groaned and ripped the photo from Sam’s hands, followed by tearing the photo in half. Sam blinks a few times again, looking around the room for a moment, like he was looking at it in a new light. Then immediately he covers his nose. 

“Gross! Dean is this the smell you said you smelled? It’s awful! It’s like what the revenants smell like, God-” Sam groaned, blinking his eyes a few times. Dean’s face breaks into a smile and he too covers his nose. 

“Yeah, Sammy. Welcome to the land of the not spell controlled assholes.” Dean expressed, smiling through his nose being pinched by his hand. “Now, are you gonna help me go find Cas or not? Cause I kinda need back-up.” Dean says, his feet antsy to get going and to leave. 

Sam looked up at Dean through his now burning eyes and nods. “Yeah,” He groans. “Yeah lets go.” The two then head down the stairs, Dean more zealously than Sam. Can you blame him? He finally had Cas back. There was no way he was gonna lose him again. 

Dean raced out to the front of the house and found the Impala. He scrambled for his keys, searching for them frantically through the pockets of his jacket. Dean let out a few curses at first, until he heard the jingle of keys. He widened his eyes and looked around, soon seeing Sam holding up the keychain. Dean grumbled as Sam tossed him the keys, soon after climbing into the car. 

Dean sat down in Baby’s driver’s seat and could feel the blood in his body boiling. He was antsy, like he too was put under a spell to prevent him from functioning. He knew it was his anxiety. He could barely even tell himself to start up his damn car. 

Sam looked over at Dean and sighed. “Dean, I can drive if you need me to-” Sam starts, trying to offer Dean a way to calm down, maybe save all of this anxious energy for trying to get Cas to believe him that Spencer was the damn monster. 

Dean snapped his head towards Sam and shook his head. “No, I got this, alright? Just… hold on.” He insists, gripping the steering wheel after he turns Baby on and gets her into gear. He can do this. Castiel will be okay. He just had to keep telling himself that. 

Sam nodded and sat back in his seat, pulling out his computer Dean guessed he grabbed before he joined Dean out near the street. “Alright Cas’s phone should have it’s GPS on, we never told him how it worked, so we should be okay. Alright?” Sam assures. Dean nods, flipping his hand over and over. 

“Yeah, yeah Sam just track his phone damn it!” Dean ranted, looking back towards the road after giving Sam an intense glare. Sam held his hands in the air and rolled his eyes. He too, was tired of Dean’s bullshit. He starts typing in his computer, zeroing in on Cas’s location. 

Dean’s fingers drum against the steering wheel, nervous feelings running through him like a toddler high on pixie sticks. Was it so much to ask for Cas to be okay? For him to finally get a win after the last six months of regretting being such an asshole to Cas? Maybe it was. Dean didn’t know what exactly Spencer was, or what exactly the limit to his power was. What if he could kill an angel? Or at the very least make Castiel forget him? Dean would never be able to forgive himself of that. 

Dean wasn’t afraid to admit that he loved the angel. That he had wronged him. He wasn’t afraid to admit that yes, he had pushed Castiel away. He had done it because he thought that it was for the best. Oh how wrong he’d been. Now all Dean wanted was to not lose him again. Especially thanks to his own decisions and choices. 

The very last thing Dean wanted was for Spencer to hurt Cas beyond what Dean or Cas himself could repair, and for Cas to hate Dean for the rest of his existence. That was the biggest fear running rampant through Dean’s mind. If he didn’t have self control he would have started the car already, and sped off to Chuck knows where and probably screwed up Sam’s tracking. 

Finally, after what felt like forever, Sam finally spoke up. “There, he’s a few miles away. He’s at Spencer’s work, Dean. The forensics office. Hurry.” Sam gestured to the gas pedal. Dean didn’t need to be told twice. He immediately sped off down the road, not caring about the speed limit or the presence of other cars. His mind was on Cas and Cas alone. 

Dean swerved the car as he turned right, making Sam grab at the sides of his seat. Dean took several shallow breaths, causing Sam to put a hand on his shoulder. Dean finally calmed somewhat, realizing that Cas would not want to find out that his rescue came with a police ticket. 

So Dean slowed down, but still was higher than the speed limit. He wasn’t about to let Spencer do anything drastic to get back at Dean once Cas started to confront Spencer about his cheating. ‘Cause how else would Cas find out if Dean was the only one home at the time that he was being unfaithful? 

Dean finally pulled up to the forensics office and quickly found a parking spot. “Where’s his phone now, Sam? Is he inside?” Dean asks, turning off the car and getting out of Baby. 

Sam looked back down at his computer screen and narrowed his eyes. “No, Dean he’s… He’s outside the entrance.” Sam informs, a tone mixed with worry echoed from his mouth. Dean refused to believe that Cas wasn’t okay unless he saw it for himself. 

Dean leapt away from the car and raced towards the wide entrance to the office. He scanned the place for signs of the angel, trenchcoat, tie, something. And that’s when he saw the phone. Dean raced over to the small black object shattered on the ground in several pieces. Dean’s eyes widened in shock, tears peering over the edge of his eye’s waterline as he picked up the small sticky note with runes written on it. Presumably a ransom note. 

Sam joined Dean soon after, his eyes widening as he too looked over the small shattered phone and the note attached to it. He looked over at Dean and again put his hand on his shoulder. 

They had been too late.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so, long story short, life gets busy yadda yadda, I'm gonna be a bit slower in posting. Sorry. i'll try to post a bit more, but its all going to depend on how I feel. And how much literature my brain wants to squeeze out of my head like a zit. 
> 
> Aaaanyways, hope you enjoy this belated chapter anyhow. Buh bye(till next part)!

Slowly, blue eyes opened and began to take in the view around them. Castiel let out a groan, knowing that this wouldn’t have happened if he had more of his grace. His grace had been what was protecting his vessel from fainting when hit with hard objects, keeling over when stabbed, etc. 

The room immediately had a run down factory feel to it. The walls were lined with graffiti and blasphemes, while others were lined with symbols. Castiel couldn’t get the detection of rust and the beginnings of mold out of his head. His vessel was still breathing. Habit. 

Castiel tried to move his arms, but immediately felt the dig of torn wire and rope around his wrists that kept him tied to the chair. He sighed, beginning to move his legs only to feel the same digging feeling of the torn wire and the rope around his ankles. He was effectively kidnapped. And he knew by who. 

It had all happened so fast. Castiel remembered walking up to the forensics office right as Spencer was walking in. It was strange, given that Spencer had left almost an hour earlier. But Castiel had been so focused on ending the relationship that he hadn’t recalled that part. 

Castiel remembered that when he turned Spencer around, Spencer sounded annoyed, almost surprised that Castiel had come to find him again. Like he’d planned for him to be more upset and to be crying. Castiel again, didn’t understand that part yet. 

Castiel had confronted Spencer right then and there in front of all of his colleagues over what Dean had heard. Spencer had tried to deny it, telling Castiel that Dean had been lying, like he was about what had happened earlier with the knife. But Castiel wasn’t budging. Castiel had gotten into Spencer’s face and broke it off, saying that he didn’t want a cheater as a partner. 

Then he remembered Spencer grabbing Castiel’s arm, squeezing it almost in a death grip as he yanked the angel to look at him. And then Castiel had heard the chant of a small spell, and he was immediately knocked into the wall of the building, knocking him out cold. 

Which now led Castiel to now. Why Spencer had truly kidnapped him, was something of a confusing topic for Castiel. He didn’t know why Spencer would resort to this. It wasn’t like they’d been together for long. Though Dean had told Castiel before that there were types of people who were just like monsters: obsessive and possessive of what they deem to be theirs. Mainly people. Or angels in this case. 

A nearby heavy door creaked open, and Castiel immediately tried to rev up his grace enough to break through the ties. However, as soon as he tried, he felt a force of pain run through him. Spencer had warded the place. No wonder he felt such a headache. 

“No use trying that, Angel. This warding? Someone very dear taught it to me. Your job was to get close enough to me to bring them back.” Spencer sneers, walking into the room looking much different from how he usually presented himself. His hair was a darker brown, and had begun falling out. His eyes were a bright red and his nails looked caked in blood and dirt. And then the most damning detail; he had dark grey skin that seemed to be decaying more and more by the minute. Castiel was astonished to see Spencer in this light. Dean hadn’t been lying. He had been attacked by the monster the night before. But he had been so determined not to hurt Castiel that he hadn’t mentioned the completely important fact that Spencer had been the monster. 

Granted, Castiel probably wouldn’t have believed him with how angry he had come down the stairs believing Spencer’s fake sob story, but still. It would have been nice to know. 

“What do you want from me?” Castiel asks gruffly, remarkably pissed that he had to both deal with the warding and a possessive monster. Spencer smirked and looked over at Castiel, a scar he hadn’t noticed before dancing across the grey, broken, and decaying skin. 

“Let me tell you a quick story, about a man and his angel.” Spencer began, causing Castiel to roll his eyes. “When I was truly alive, I was the outcast of my village. Scrawny, malnourished, the runt, etc. No one wanted to pay any dowry for me. So I was alone with my flocks of sheep. Then, the invading clans came and tortured and enslaved my village, but left me for dead.” Spencer ranted, circling Castiel’s chair while glaring at the angel. Castiel was annoyed. What did this monologue have to do with anything? Castiel couldn’t even remember that time of history, thanks to Naomi. Apparently he had been a naughty angel somehow. Getting too close to the humans in his charge, again. 

“But then, down from Heaven came the most beautiful woman. Angel, really. She called herself Esther. And she was gorgeous. She healed me. Gave me strength to walk again. I owed her my life. Then, before I could even tell what had happened in the months that she stayed by my side, we were in love. But really, Heaven wouldn’t allow it. So she called on her garrison commander, you, to keep our secret. You agreed, and we were free to be us forever.” Spencer says in a fake dreamy voice, putting his hands in a dainty like gesture against his face. 

Castiel’s face doesn’t change. Of course Naomi’s mind mending would come back to bite him in the metaphorical ass eventually. But this does qualify him getting ‘too close’ to the humans, so he guessed this was another time Naomi decided to wipe his mind. 

Spencer growled and turned his head, looking towards Castiel. “But you know what happened instead? One of your little angels in the garrison spotted us together and reported us. They had me smited on principle. All I can remember is Esther calling out my name before I was killed, and I felt all of my body being torn apart.” Spencer snarled, gripping onto Castiel’s arms and getting into his face. “So you can imagine that when over a century later I reawaken and I find out that when us norse men die before our time in battle, we can come back as what the hunters call revenants. But we are so much more than that. We have to feed to stay alive. Keep our bodies intact. What better starting group of people than those who were descendants of the clan members that killed my village?” Spencer suggests, smirking at Castiel again. He let’s go of Castiel’s arms, and Castiel can feel the recoil of Spencer’s sudden strength of his grip leaving Castiel’s arms. He gasps silently, his mouth agape as he feels his arms ache from the pressure. 

“You… You’ve been killing all those people? To feed?” Castiel asks, glaring at Spencer as hard as he could. Everything was a lie with him? Truly? Did Spencer ever truly love him? Or did he just want to use him to get to an angel that died in the fall? 

Spencer chuckled and scoffed, his form increasing it’s height and size. “Finally you get the picture! Yes! I feed to stay alive! Till my Esther can bring my soul back to my body. Make me alive again so I can be with her once more. Though, I couldn’t do that without the grace of another angel to track her. I just had to convince you I loved you, that you meant something to me to get you to sacrifice something for me. But then that fucking EX of yours had to come into the picture! Ruin all of my plans!” Spencer growled, his fist clenching as he spun back around in a very villain like fashion. 

Castiel furrowed his eyebrows. Of course he was talking about Dean. Dean hadn’t done anything wrong other than show up like Castiel had asked Sam to get Dean to do. It wasn’t in his plan for Sam to trick Dean into coming though. 

Spencer let out a sadistic laugh. “So I used the spells that witch showed me long ago, to use the blood of my enemies to make them turn a blind eye to my symptoms. I.e the smell, my strength, my increasing size, and of course when I bled I bled black but that’s besides the point. Of course with Dean I couldn’t get his blood as easy cause he stayed at that damn motel instead of staying over. So cologne was all I could muster. Anywho, my point was that the spell kept you two on my side. Turned you away from dear old Dean. I wanted to break him down further. Scare him off. Maybe even get him to off himself. Cause that stupid spell has a clause. And apparently if someone has a strong enough opinion of the person I’m trying to keep them from, it doesn’t last long. Sound familiar, Castiel?” Spencer taunts, turning away from Castiel again as he began to pull a photo out of his pocket of Castiel. Spencer bit into his finger and started to draw runes over it. 

Castiel raised his eyebrows in suspicion. “What are you doing?” Castiel asks, glaring once again at Spencer but with more fear and confusion. Spencer laughed and then began to make his way back over to Castiel. Spencer elongated one of his nails and cut Castiel’s cheek, causing the angel to hiss as the blood dripped onto the photo. 

“A spell, silly. The least I can do for now, till that stupid soulmate of yours comes back and ruins everything. I’m putting you under the same spell as last time. Unless you want to help me willingly, so I won’t hurt anyone else you love. And you’d get to be in control of your mind the whole time.” Spencer offers, smearing the dark blood across the photo with his grey and decaying thumb.

Castiel took in a heavy breath, although he did not need it, and took a page out of Dean’s book. He spat at Spencer and growled. “Bite me.” Castiel spat gruffly. Spencer groaned and wiped away the spit, covering part of his face in blood. 

“Gross, could you not? I’d rather not have my face burn off cause of your stupid grace.” Spencer growled. Castiel raised an eyebrow, still in confusion. 

“Why make me love you? Make me think I love you, and then cheat on me so blatantly?” Castiel asks gruffly, glaring up at Spencer through squinted eyes. Spencer rolled his eyes and pinched his nose. 

“You weren’t supposed to find out. I had to pay Mark in return for sleeping with Dean, for getting him to try and flirt with the damn hunter to get him off of you and to keep him from helping to break the damn spell. He wanted sex in return, so I gave it. Humans…” Spencer growled, holding the photo idly. 

“Why? You could have approached me and asked. Before I knew you were what you are.” Castiel asks, fighting with the bindings manually behind him. Spencer chuckled, holding his chin and effectively covering his face in more of Castiel’s blood. 

“Really? As soon as I stepped in front of you and you didn’t recognize me? When you were part of the reason I had to be smited to begin with?! Hel no! You couldn’t keep your damn soldiers in line for my Esther and I to live as happily as we wanted! The only reason I could even stand you is because you gave the order for her to come down and heal me in the first place!” Spencer growled, his hands reaching out and squeezing Castiel’s shoulders tightly. Castiel gasped in pain, grimacing as Spencer tightened his grip so hard that he could almost hear the tendons in his shoulders ripping. 

Castiel sighed, gasping again once Spencer let go and flexed his hands. He looked back over at Castiel like he was trash, like he was just another pawn to him. “You really want this Castiel? You want me to put this spell over you again like a child that needs to behave rather than being the mature one and helping me out? I can help you in return. I can get dear ol’ Dean to love you again, run straight back into your arms and he’d never leave.” Spencer offers, smirking at Castiel and at his offer. 

Castiel snarled. “He already loves me, Spencer. You don’t need a spell to get him to love me, and I him. If you had approached me kindly, instead of going through all this trouble, I may have been able to help you. If it weren’t for the fact that Esther is dead, Spencer.” Castiel says, looking down to the ground and looking up at Spencer. 

Spencer’s eyes flashed with rage, his hand formed a fist and it collided with Castiel’s face repeatedly. Castiel coughed, spitting blood from his mouth. Spencer growled and he wiped away the blood on his chin. “Don’t you dare ever lie to me! She’s alive, damnit! Don’t you fucking lie to me!” Spencer growled, holding the now folded photo in his hand in a death grip. 

Castiel grunted and spat out more of the blood from his aching mouth. “I’m sorry, Spencer. She is. She died from the fall Metatron caused. I wouldn’t lie to you. I’m not going to help you Spencer. I can’t.” Castiel says softly, trying to maybe peel back Spencer’s mask and get to his humanity, if there was any left. 

“Fine, I guess you’ll have it your way. Say bye bye to your control, Castiel. You’ll help me, whether in love with me or not.” Spencer growled, before his fingers squeezed into a fist once more, and punched Castiel in the face as hard as he could. 

⬼⬼⬼

“Damnit Sam! I failed him!” Dean rants to his brother, his fists clenched tightly as he paced through the library parking lot. He had in his other hand the slightly blood covered note from Dean picking up the pieces of Castiel’s broken and shattered phone. The only connection he had to try and translate it was being paid off by Spencer and he didn’t quite feel like talking to the guy who slept with him because he was told to. 

Sam was desperately typing on his computer, seeing if maybe he could find a translator nearby or perhaps a website to help them. He sighed and looked up at his brother. “No you didn’t, Dean. Spencer is doing this for his own reasons. He’s possessive, like you’ve said. You realized your mistake and you were trying to save Cas before it was too late, I get that. We’ll find him Dean. You don’t need to put yourself down. You of all people know that isn’t healthy.” Sam warns, glaring at Dean for a moment before turning his eyes back to his screen. 

Dean grunts and grips his hair as he runs his fingers through it. He’d done it again. He let Castiel go. He should have gone after him sooner. Found him sooner. Now Spencer had full range to do whatever the hell he wanted with the angel unless he could find out where the hell they were and what the damn message said. Not unless, until. Dean was going to find his angel. That much was certain to him. No monster was going to take away his happiness again. Not even himself. 

“Sam I did it again! I pushed him away! I let him go! Now he’s being held by this crazy ass boyfriend of his that just so happens to be our monster of the week!” Dean rants, his eyes wide as he sarcastically recounted what bullshit their situation was. 

Sam rolled his eyes again. “Dean, calm down man. Please. We’re gonna find him. I promise. I just gotta focus on this translator thing. Maybe see if you can find anything inside? A book, maybe?” Sam asks with his puppy eyes again. Dean curses and rolled his eyes. 

“Damn it Sam!” Dean growled, looking around the parking lot angrily. That’s when he spots a familiar face stalking his way up to the library entrance. Dean snarls and begins to hall ass to the entrance. Sam looks up and widens his eyes as he recognizes the look of murder in Dean’s eyes. 

Dean growled again, stomping up to the entrance and grabbing Mark’s wrist, pinning him to the outside of the library. Mark lets out a grunt and starts to pant, looking around angrily until he sees Dean. He rolled his eyes, smirking at the elder Winchester. 

“So, back again? You want to top this time, slut?” Mark asks. Dean growled and pressed Mark against the wall harder. Mark grunts for a moment before he starts to chuckle, not intimidated by Dean. “Really, Dean? You think I can’t toss you off of me?” Mark snarls. Sam widened his eyes at Mark, surprised that this was the man that Dean had the one night stand with. But he still growled at him, angry that this man would even think to call his brother that. 

Dean knees Mark in the crotch and grips his collar tightly. “Oh trust me, I can get anything out of you I want. I could torture you until you tell me everything Spencer made you do, that he paid you to say and do to me.” Dean snarled, making Mark widen his eyes. 

“You can’t. You won’t. People are watching.” Mark reminds, smirking as he thought he’d won. Dean shoves him harder against the wall. 

“You don’t think I know that? You don’t know this, neither does Spencer, but how would you like to be tortured by a man who was tortured for forty years in Hell?” Dean says lowly into Mark’s ear. “Or would you rather help me? Translate this note Spencer left me when he took the man he was using you to keep me away from. You’ve got five seconds.” Dean growled again, smirking as his hand moved to Mark’s neck. 

Mark swallows harshly, glaring into Dean’s fearfully intense and unmoving eyes. He had two options here, and Dean seemed to be dead serious. Either he can live his life as an asshole after helping him out once more, or he can die at this man’s hands. Seemed like the best answer was obvious. 

Mark, with a gulp and a clearing of his throat, looked back into Dean’s eyes and sighed. 

“Fine. Let me see it.”


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel kinda stupid. I know It's been forever since the last update, and I promise I'll get the last chapter in tomorrow. Or the day after. Thank you all to those of you who have been reading and commenting on this work, it means a lot to me.

A simultaneous grunt and grumble echoed from the Winchester brothers as they sat the dark haired man down in the chair in the farthest corner of the library. Mark let out a grunt and rolled his eyes as Sam pushed him into the desk. 

“Would it kill you to treat me with any sort of respect? I am the link between you two being able to find this silly angel friend of yours.” Mark complained, glancing between Dean and Sam. “I expected much more hospitality from you especially, Dean. I thought you quite enjoyed yourself in my company last time-” Mark began to sneer. Dean snarled and slammed the books he had before in front of Mark, glancing around for any librarians who had the audacity to tell them to shush. 

“No, in fact, I did not enjoy my time with you at all, Mark. You’re worse than my first. And he was terrible.” Dean barked lowly into Mark’s ear. Mark swallowed a huff and a snarl as Sam too got closer to his face. 

“Not to mention you only spent any time with Dean because Spencer paid you. So you’re going to translate this note for us, help us find Cas. Then maybe, we won’t turn you in for literally buying Dean for a service.” Sam sneered, pushing the sticky note in front of Mark. “That would ruin your credibility as a businessman, wouldn’t it? So I suggest you do as we tell you.” Sam glared. Mark gulped softly and nodded, very annoyed with the brothers. 

Mark took the sticky note into his hand, and grabbed one of the books Dean had set in front of him. Dean raised an eyebrow at him, his expression still firm and angry. “Last time you barely needed a minute. What’s so different about this one that you need a reference?” Dean asked, snarling lowly. Mark snapped his gaze towards Dean and glared at him. 

“Well it seems Spencer used even earlier versions of runes. I haven’t looked at this version of them in years. I need a refresher. So if you’ll let me, I can get you that message.” Mark grumbled as he turned his attention back towards the book and the note. 

Sam stepped away from the desk and grabbed Dean’s arm and pulled him off to the side. “Dean,” He whispered. “Are you sure we can even trust him? How come Cas wasn’t able to read the message before?” Sam asked, gripping Dean’s arm a little too tight. Dean sighed harshly, pulling his arm from Sam’s grip. 

“Probably Spencer’s spell. Cas did say something before about Naomi taking away his memories a few times. Maybe he could read them cause the memory of being able to read them was taken away?” Dean suggested, giving Sam a very uncertain look. Sam raised an eyebrow at Dean, a slight smirk tugging at his lips. Dean rolled his eyes. “I don’t know, I’m grasping at straws here!” He hisses in response. 

Dean looks back towards Mark, walking over and sitting on the edge of the desk. He picks up one of the Norse Mythology books and opens it up. He notices a dog-eared page and flips the book open to that page. On that chapter in which was titled ‘Monsters; undead and otherwise’ had a picture that reminded Dean very much of how Spencer had looked when he had attacked him. 

Dean was about to bring it up to Sam when Mark sat back and waved Sam over, glaring annoyedly at Dean for sitting so close to him on the desk. Dean flipped him off and hopped off the edge of the desk. Dean stood next to Mark, his hand on the chair as he leaned closer to him. 

Mark glanced at Dean again, rolling his eyes as he was flipped off and Dean purposefully got closer. “Look, this message is a little fuzzy. But the gist of it is ‘If you ever wanna see your angel again, I suggest you look where there are no people, a place long abandoned to conceal my death-like stench.’ or something like that. It’s fuzzy, like I said. Very formal text.” Mark says with a huff. “Now can I leave? I have a meeting to get to. And I would very much like to not be annoyed when I go in.” Mark sneered, his hands clenching into aggravated fists. 

Dean rolled his eyes, letting out a tsk. “You’re a bastard. Just get your ass out of here. Don’t try to find us, or make deals like that again.” Dean growled harshly. Mark returned the flipping off gesture to Dean and got up from the desk and chair. Mark’s harsh blue eyes glared at Dean angrily for a few moments before turning his head and promptly leaving. 

Dean shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose. He sighed deeply and stood up straighter, walking back over to Sam. “So? Any ideas? You and Cas did go out and get that food for us. Did you see any places that looked abandoned? Maybe a warehouse or something? Monsters seem to like those places.” Dean suggested, crossing his arms impatiently. 

Sam pulled his phone from his pocket, shrugging his shoulders. “I don’t know… I was under that spell, remember? I can barely remember all that I did, Dean. I don’t remember my thoughts.” Sam answered, scrambling to pull up a new tab on his phone to find a map of the town. 

Dean cursed under his breath, his hand reaching up and rushing through the short strands of his dirty blond hair. “Then how the hell are we supposed to find him? It’s not like we have enough of his grace for a tracking spell!” Dean exclaimed harshly, getting a harsh ‘shush’ thrown his way. Dean rolled his eyes and looked back at his brother, giving him an impatient look. 

Sam held up a finger, indicating for Dean to wait a moment. Dean huffed, his toes tapping against the carpeted floor of the library. Sam mumbled a few times as he swiped on his phone, until his face lit up and turned the screen to face Dean. “The old mill warehouse. I remember it’s near the place where the first victim was found. That’s gotta be it, right? The first victim was found near the forest, and all those smells would mask Spencers.” Sam evaluates, snapping his hazel eyed gaze to his brother’s emerald green one. 

Dean nodded, slightly annoyed. “Then what the hell are we still standing here for? Let’s go.” Dean hissed at Sam, beginning to make his way towards the exit, but not before getting a second ‘shush’ thrown his way. 

Sam followed with a grunt, his feet scurrying behind as they rushed out the entrance. Dean took out his keys and fumbled with them as he attempted to unlock the Impala. After a few short moments of frustration, Dean unlocked the car, climbing in and starting up her engine. Once Sam was in the car and his car door was closed, Dean didn’t waste any more time. He immediately pulled the car into reverse and began to back out. 

He was determined to make things right. To not let Castiel walk away again. To not fail him. He was going to make it right this time. He just hoped he made it to his angel before it was too late. 

⬼⬼⬼

Castiel grunted in pain, gritting his teeth as he slowly came to from the punch to the face. He attempted to move his hands to his face, but found they were still bound. Castiel’s mind felt fuzzy and hazy, like something was trying to take over it. His grace felt weakened, almost stolen somehow. His head felt light, and his vision was blurry. 

Nearby, Castiel could hear a hushed voice whispering what sounded to be Norse or scandinavian spell dialect. Castiel could not see, but with how long he’d been spending time and living with the man, he could tell it was Spencer. Castiel tugged at the restraints, hearing a short snicker echo itself from Spencer’s mouth. 

“You’re really trying that again? Damn, you are strong willed. Or maybe it’s the feelings of love you have for that pathetic hunter, hm? You do love him don’t you?” Spencer sneered, visibly getting on his knees in front of Castiel and tilting his chin up. 

Castiel didn’t know how, but he was no longer in control of his mouth, or his body as his voice echoed out into the room. “I don’t. I love you, not Dean.” Castiel felt physically sick as he heard the words get plucked from his mouth. He had gotten distracted, the spell took over. 

Spencer, although not visible to the angel, smirked greedily. Spencer got to his feet and forcefully took a kiss from the angel, tilting his chin up to reach his lips. Castiel focused all of his willpower on trying to fight against Spencer’s kiss, but was unsuccessful. Spencer drew back his undead kiss and backed away from the angel. 

“Now, let’s see. I have the grace I need, no thanks to you, I have the blood, the herbs, angel feather, which was very hard to come by… I should be set. Of course, I still need you to speak to her for me. I don’t exactly know how to speak enochian.” Spencer says in a fake and pitiful voice. Castiel, if he could, would have scowled. 

Spencer then turns around, Castiel’s vision slowly improving. As Spencer begins to formulate the spell ingredients, Castiel can hear the distinct banging of a fist on metal. And the stomping of feet. Castiel’s heart, although Jimmys and not his, began to pound with hope. The sounds began to get closer, making Spencer scowl. 

“Really? Must you join the fun right now? I was just about to get to the fun part.” Spencer quips, turning his head and looking towards the entrance. Instead of finding who he thought he would, he finds Sam rushing through the doorway. Spencer raises an eyebrow. “Samuel, what are you doing here? I thought I gave you that new podcast to listen to? Don’t tell me your idiot of a brother ruined that for you?” Spencer asked, walking forward towards Sam with his still bloody and grey hands extended as if asking for a hug. 

Sam widened his eyes as they met with Castiel’s, immediately turning towards Spencer and punching him in the face. “Dean!” He called, pushing Spencer against the wall as the two erupted into hand-to-hand combat. Sam only had the advantage due to the element of surprise. Had he not had that, he knew he could have ended up like those victims with their heads crushed. 

Dean entered through a farther away entrance, rushing to Castiel’s side. Dean’s knees hit the hard concrete and the flash of a knife followed. “It’s gonna be okay Cas, I got you. He’s not gonna use you, not gonna hurt you anymore.” Dean promises, cutting off Castiel’s restraints starting with the ones at his feet. 

Spencer gritted his teeth as Sam fought him, forcing him to the ground with a smack. He turned his head and smirked. “Oh I wouldn’t do that just yet.” Spencer warned. Dean stopped for a moment, but not any longer. He cut Castiel’s last bond and grabbed his hand, helping him up. 

“Come on Cas, Baby’s outside. We can get you out of here, I’m not leaving you again-” Dean promises, a smile flashed onto his face as Castiel turned to look at him. And instead of a hug, a kiss maybe, he was immediately slapped and slammed against the nearest wall. 

Dean let out a startled gasp and a bit of blood as he was pressed against the metal lining of the wall. A weak and surprised ‘Cas?’ fled his lips as well. Dean groaned a bit before grabbing Castiel’s arm, which had a hold on Dean’s shoulder. Dean grunted and flung Castiel against the wall, not willing to hurt him. “Stop this Cas! This isn’t you!” Dean growled, pushing Castiel against the wall with as much force as he could muster. 

Castiel’s eyes showed no change as the elder Winchester glared into them. Castiel pushed Dean back, his angel blade sliding from his sleeve and entering his right hand. Castiel grabbed Dean’s shoulder and gripped it tightly, forcing him to the wall once again. Castiel’s leg thrust itself between Dean’s thighs and threatened to knee him where the sun doesn’t shine. His hand that gripped the angel blade tightly pressed it against Dean’s neck, his chin up and his nose flared as he glared into Dean’s eyes full of desperation. “You did leave me, you made me leave. You gave me the same spiel you gave Sam when he let Lucifer out. Do you know how much that hurt? You making me leave you so vulnerable?” Castiel sneered, his blade slightly digging into Dean’s neck. Dean swallowed hard and glanced into Castiel’s dark blue eyes, searching for some trace of the Castiel he knew. 

In those blue eyes Dean could see the struggle. He could see his Castiel fighting against whatever was forcing him to do this. It somehow gave Dean hope that Castiel could fight this again. Just as he had fought it before. Dean’s hand gripped onto Castiel’s right wrist, pushing the blade back as he stared into his eyes. “Please… please Cas… Fight it. You know… you know I’m sorry. I was stupid, I know. I hurt you. But this isn’t you. You don’t love him-” Dean says in a weak attempt to reach his angel. Castiel’s eyes showed a brief moment of hesitation before the angel blade began to push back against Dean’s hold. 

Spencer growled, shoving Sam off of him and slamming him against the wall. Sam slumped to the floor in a heap, coughing up a slight bit of blood from his tussle with the man, or monster. One of the two. 

Spencer scowled and stomped forward towards Castiel. “That damn witch’s spells never work how I want them to anymore!” Spencer says brusquely, shoving Castiel off of Dean before picking up Dean’s long forgotten knife. Dean coughed as he reached for his neck, only to have Spencer’s boot connect with his side, tossing him to the ground. Dean grunts and attempts to reach his feet again. Spencer again kicks him, his long dead hands reaching down and grabbing Dean’s shirt and pulling him up into the air. 

Dean’s body scrambles and he sputters as Spencer’s grip reaches his neck. Spencer smirks as his nails dig into Dean’s neck and begin to squeeze. With his hand on the knife, Spencer begins to stroke the knife across Dean’s cheek and across his clothed chest, causing Dean to let out multiple winces and grunts. 

Castiel stands almost emotionless behind this, watching as Spencer tortured Dean for fun. Internally, Castiel was banging against an almost invisible wall of control, kicking and screaming for Spencer to let Dean go. But on the outside he still remained stoic. 

Sam grunts, looking up at his brother’s plight. His eyes glanced to Castiel, wondering how he could just stand there, even after attacking Dean and let Spencer nearly kill him. He didn’t know what it was that was holding Castiel back, but he had to fight it. 

Sam slowly rises to his feet, coughing hard as he finally stands to the best of his ability. Spencer had knocked his shoulder out of it’s socket, so his left arm was useless. Sam knew better than to attempt to attack Spencer while Dean was in his hold and Castiel was in the state that he was. So instead, Sam began looking for a photo. Any photo of Castiel. 

Sam scavenged through Spencer’s things, knocking the spell ingredients off of the altar until he found it; beneath the bowl of herbs was a bloody and folded picture of Castiel. He reached for it and gripped it in his hand, about to rip it when he felt Castiel’s grace forcing him against the wall. Damn it, so close. 

Sam grimaced at the pain from his dislocated shoulder against the hard wall of metal, still refusing to let go of the photo. “Cas… I think it’s time you had a dose of reality man-” Sam grunted, before he brought the photo to his teeth and ripped it in half 

Meanwhile, Dean was still struggling against Spencer’s supernatural strength. His legs tried their hardest to kick or move, but he was unsuccessful. Spencer’s hand in which he held the knife raised and aimed at Dean’s chest. “Finally, I can cut away the loose strand that’s been annoying me since you got here. Your death is the piece of the puzzle I’m missing. Now I can finally get it, then no one can undo my spell on your precious angel-” Spencer teases, his hand then seemingly starting to thrust down and stab Dean in the chest. 

Dean swallowed hard again in that moment, squeezing his eyes shut as he prepared himself for the blow to his chest and the pain that would follow. But it never came. Instead, he opened his eyes once more only to see a blade pushed through Spencer’s chest and light erupting from within him as he began to deteriorate and break apart. Spencer’s eyes rolled into the back of his head just as he practically exploded, and bits of him landed across the room. 

Dean’s body slumped to the floor in a heap, soon after being engulfed in a tight hold. Dean forced his eyes open and looked up to see Castiel holding him tenderly. “Dean,” Castiel panted. “ Dean honey please, stay with me.” Castiel begged, his hand pressing two fingers to Dean’s forehead in a weak attempt to use any of his leftover grace to heal his lover. He unfortunately could not heal him entirely, just the smallest scrapes and bruises. Castiel’s eyebrows tilted upward and he held Dean closer to him, whispering a prayer in enochian. 

Dean grunted softly, raising his hand and resting it on Castiel’s shoulder. Castiel’s worried gaze met Dean’s, shifting into one of shock. “Don’t go begging for me to live yet, Cas. I still got a good long while to go.” Dean coughed, smirking at Castiel weakly. 

Castiel’s eyes briefly felt two tears simultaneously build up in them and then fall as he pulled Dean into a relieved passionate kiss. His lips met Dean’s, and the spark lit up in their bellies. Castiel tilted his head, cupping Dean’s cheeks as he brought him flush against him, kissing him deeply. 

Sam groaned against the wall, widening his eyes in mild shock as he watched Castiel practically make out with his brother. He shrugged slightly. It was bound to happen anyway. Castiel couldn’t keep his eyes off of Dean, let alone his hands. So he said nothing, and just watched the two. Watching his definition and example of what love was sit there kissing the life out of one another.


End file.
